A Tale of a Nightingale
by SpiritOfJazz
Summary: She's on the run, seeking sanctuary in the war torn province of Skyrim. Waiting until Gray Fox beckons for her return to the Imperial City, she struggles to find her place in the Thieves Guild for taking her in, only to become wrapped up in conspiracy and drama as the dying organization collapses onto itself. Rated M for language and sexuality.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

Prologue

The dawn was just beginning to break and the sky was a perfect gradient of purple and blue. Glowbugs and Luna moths still floated lazily in the air and dew was starting to form and soak through her foot wraps. The Breton had been walking for a couple hours already, sleeping only for a few hours earlier in a desolate inn's stables. It had been days since she fled the Imperial City, all on foot and alone.

The sky was getting lighter and the air less crisp, but she still needed to wrap her arms around herself to keep warm. She was in Falkreath if she remembered, only a little further until she reached the hold's capital to buy some clothes and food. She had half a mind to just steal them and keep the small amount of coin she had in case something more important came up, but she knew the last thing she needed was a bounty in the very province she was seeking sanctuary in.

Out beyond the pines she suddenly heard shouts and instantly fell to the ground, her senses straining harder than ever in her exhausted state. She crept forward, towards the sound of clashing steel and battle cries, being ever so conscious as to not step on the pine needles that littered the soft earth. She was close, and crouching, peeked behind a tree to view the scrap before her.

She recognized the Imperial uniforms instantly and grew tense, and it took her a few more seconds to deduce that the opposing forces had to be the Stormcloak rebels. There were a lot of Imperials, a lot more than Stormcloaks, and she knew the battle was already won. A loud, thundering sound made her jump and retreat behind the tree which quaked. She looked again and saw that a Nord, wearing a different outfit of gray furs among the Stormcloaks, was unleashing powerful waves of air out of his mouth and towards Imperial soldiers who flew backwards in its strength. She had never seen anything like that and became scared, she needed to get away immediately.

A crunch of needles behind her made her snap around before receiving a sharp blow to the head, knocking her unconscious with a small grunt.


	2. Chapter 2: To RIverwood

**A/N: Okay, I'm very new to fanfic so I apologize if I'm a little sporadic, I'm still grasping the ropes on how to edit and upload chapters. Please feel free to give any tips or feedback, I love constructive criticism. The first few chapters are quite slow, I realize this, things don't really start picking up until about Chapter Six or Seven but there are still bits and pieces from the first five that _will_ come into play later. Hope you enjoy :)**

Chapter Two

"That looks like the way out! I knew we'd make it!"

Climbing up the snow drift and out the stony cave was as tiring as it was rewarding, they_ had_ made it, and by the looks of it there were no soldiers nearby to spoil their relief.

"Wait!" The Nord Stormcloak pointed abruptly, gesturing to the sky above and the beast in it. They crouched behind some stones, watching the majestic creature fly west on black wings before being swallowed by the clouds. "There he goes. Looks like he's gone for good this time." The two stood up, brushing dirt and dust from their clothes and eyes. "No way to know if anyone else made it out alive, but this place is going to be swarming with Imperials soon enough. We'd better clear out of here." The Breton couldn't agree more. She was more afraid of Imperial soldiers than dragons.

"So, you said your name was Heidi, right? To that guard with the list? How did you end the middle of all this? You're certainly no solider."

"Um..." Her name wasn't Heidi. It was Isobel. As if she was going to say her real name to authorities and give them another reason to execute her, which they tried to do anyway. She heavily debated telling him the truth, but decided to stick to her alias, praying it wouldn't backfire on her later. "Yes, I'm Heidi. That guard said your name was...Ralof."

The blonde intimidated her, as most Nords did. She had been in Skyrim a few times already when she was quite young, and none of them had been good experiences. She knew the people here weren't the most accepting and that they were fierce warriors, an unnerving combination for anyone who was a foreigner whose daggers and magic would be nothing against a claymore through the chest.

"Yes, Ralof of Riverwood. That's my actual name." He chuckled as they continued walking in silence except for the rumbling of their stomachs. Ralof smiled. "Who knew fighting dragons and Legionaries would empty our bellies and dry our lips, eh?" Isobel tried to smile. Ralof continued to look at her, trying to figure the curious woman out.

She had obviously been travelling for awhile, she was dirty and smelled like anybody who walked in the wilderness for days would. Her messy, shaggy black hair fringed her pale face, and he could see her eyes were bright blue even through the downcast lashes. Her short hair made her features even more elf like, from her pointed nose and sharp cheekbones and brow to her small stature, a traditional Breton in every sense. Ralof wanted to break into a steady jog but knew his companions legs were too small and tired to ever keep up.

"My sister, Gerdur, runs the mill in Riverwood, just up the road. I'm sure she'd help you out. Her husband Hod is a great cook and they both will be happy to let you stay until you're strong enough to continue where ever you're going."

As terrified as she was, the offer was extremely appealing. A place to wash, feed and sleep where people were as on guard from Imperials as she was. Even though Gray Fox told her to go east through the mountains to Ivarstead and then to Riften, she decided that with all what happened a change of plan was in order.

"Okay, that...that sounds nice." Isobel said, tenderly rubbing the back of her head where she was hit. There was a sore bump there, not to mention there were some of the other minor wounds she received from fighting out of the Keep. She decided once she was alone she would perform some Restoration magic on herself, feeling uncomfortable to do it in front of Ralof knowing that most Nords disapproved of magic.

"Good. Follow me." They continued walking in silence. Normally, Isobel was a talkative person, to the point where it got her into trouble, but she was too overwhelmed with everything that happened she didn't feel like conversation. She wasn't sure what they'd talk about anyway.

The scenery was beautiful, it was the first she'd seen the all the towering trees and mountains during daylight since she crossed the border. She knew she was a city slicker and not used to the wilderness, but she couldn't help but envy Skyrim's people for living in such beauty.

"You know you should go to Windhelm and join the fight to free Skyrim. You've seen the true face of the Empire today. If anyone will know what the coming of the dragon means, it's Ulfric." It took a lot for Isobel not to start laughing. She wasn't cut out for war, to see her on the battle field would be comedy. She was good at brawls and bar fights for her size, but not war with huge men, and if there was one thing she wasn't passionate about it was a rebellion in favour of people she had no fondness for. Still, she really was curious about the dragon.

"Was that dragon on your side?" She asked, feeling like it was a stupid question as soon as she said it.

"What? Oh, hardly! I don't think even Ulfric could pull a dragon out of his pocket. Lucky for us it showed up when it did, eh? I wasn't looking forward to getting a shave from an Imperial headmen." Ralof said with a chuckle. The man seemed jolly enough, and not a threat, but she was still weary and kept her guard up despite his friendly advances."See that ruin up there." He stopped, pointing to a massive structure built into a nearby mountain. "Bleak Falls Barrow. I never understood how my sister could stand living in the shadow of that place. I guess you get used to it." Isobel actually liked it, it looked like a castle from afar. She could only imagine all the riches that were inside.

They continued their walk, Isobel getting more and more tired. _'By Azura, you better not faint, last thing you need is for some Nord warrior to play nurse to you._' The two approached three stone pillars, Isobel snapped out of her dizziness for a moment to examine them more, confused with what they meant and what the carvings on them were.

"These are the Guardian Stones. Three of the thirteen that dot Skyrim's landscape. Go ahead, see for yourself." Ralof gestured towards them, but turned to see Isobel had collapsed. He rushed over, lifting her upright with his thick arms. "Heidi? Heidi?" Shaking her a bit, she came to, and grunting tried to stand up. Ralof lifted her up and continued walking down the stone path while carrying her in his arms.

"Stop! Stop! I'm fine, let me down." Ralof ignored her.

"Remember, this isn't Stormcloak territory." He said seriously.

_'Fuck, so much for being low profile.'_ She was in full Stormcloak apparel after looting a dead body in the Keep to protect herself on the fight out. _'Now I'm dressed in rebel's armor in enemy territory. I might as well hold a dagger to my own throat.'_ Isobel scolded herself, cursing the whole situation she found herself in. Ralof saw the worry that furrowed her brows.

"If we're ahead of the news from Helgen we should be fine, as long as we don't do anything stupid. If we run into any Imperials, just let me do the talking, all right?"

He was cut short by a howl. Isobel's head rushed suddenly fogging up her eyes. Two wolves jumped out of the bushes, holding Isobel in his one arm Ralof brandished his axe in the other, catching the sunlight in it's already blood soaked steel as he swung at the beasts. Isobel fought against her body and channeled the fear she felt when she first saw the dragon beyond the executioner's axe and gathered it in her hands, feeling the tingly light before shooting two glowing red orbs at both the wolves. The first ran instantly, yelping as if it was mortally wounded, the second met the blade of Ralof's axe before it could even react.

Ralof straightened himself and sheathed his blade, amused with the fleeing wolf, its cries fading as it ran deeper into the woods. He looked down at her as she squirmed out of his arms and stood shakily on her own two feet.

"Magic, eh? I guess each person has their own thing. Regardless, I'm glad you decided to come with me. We're almost to Riverwood."

Isobel could see the stone gates, noticing the town didn't even have a wall, something that was unusual back home. Why, anything could sneak in at night and wreak havoc.

"Looks like nobody here knows what happened. Come on, Gerdur's probably working in her lumber mill." Ralof said keeping a close eye on her. She followed him across a small plank bridge towards the mill. Isobel admired its sturdy build before being distracted by the shouts of an old woman in the house behind her. A man, who she assumed was the old crone's son, wandered over to her, trying to calm her down.

"Gerdur!" Ralof shouted with a smile. A tall woman, matching her brother's blonde hair and blue eyes, turned away from gazing at river and towards the two. Her face lighting up.

"Ralof! Mara's mercy, it's good to see you!" She had Ralof's accent too. Isobel stuck close to Ralof, hating feeling shy. "But is it safe here? We heard that Ulfric had been captured..."

"Gerdur, I'm fine. At least now I am."

"Are you hurt? What's happened? And who's this? One of your comrades?" Gerdur's gaze met Isobel's and Isobel tried holding her chin up a bit higher and straightening her shoulders.

"Not a comrade yet, but a friend. I owe her my life in fact. Is there somewhere we can talk? There's no telling when the news from Helgen will reach the Imperials... "

"Helgen? Has something happened? You're right, follow me. Hod! Come here a minute. I need your help with something." A massive man with long blonde hair (although a different shade than Gerdur's and Ralof's) and thick beard peeked over from atop the saw mill.

"What is it woman? Sven drunk on the job again?"

"Hod. Just come here." Gerdur snapped.

"Ralof! What are you doing here? I'll be right down!"

"Uncle Ralof! Can I see your axe? How many Imperials have you killed? Do you really know Ulfric Stormcloak?" Isobel grabbed her dagger as she jumped. The young boy was followed by a huge, shaggy dog that she first thought was a wolf. She quickly put her dagger away before anybody saw and tried to act natural.

"Hush Frodnar, this is no time for your games. Go and watch the south road, come find us if you see any Imperial soldiers coming." Gerdur said sternly, hands on her hips.

"Aw mama, I want to stay and talk with Uncle Ralof!"

"Look at you!" Ralof said kneeling down and placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Almost a grown man. Won't be long before you'll be joining the fight yourself."

"That's right! Don't worry Uncle Ralof, I won't let those soldiers sneak up on you." The boy ran off quick as a flame with the dog behind his heels.

"Now Ralof, what's going on? You two look pretty well done in." Gerdur beckoned to an area with a large tree stump and gestured for them to sit. When Isobel sat down her feet screamed in relief in her boots

"Well, I can't remember when I last slept...Where to start?"

She half-listened as Ralof told of the Imperial ambush and how they were captured and brought to Helgen for execution. That they had already knocked off one guys head and was onto to "Heidi" before a dragon swept down and attacked the village.

"You don't mean a real, live..."

"I can scarcely believe it myself, and I was there!"

In the havoc and chaos that followed, Ralof and Isobel were able to escape through Helgen's Keep and through the underground tunnels, having to fight Imperial soldiers along the way. Ralof told of how he fell after a Legonaire sliced the back of his leg, making him kneel to the man who held a sword to his face. How "Heidi" managed to run up behind the guard from out of nowhere and slit his throat, then pulled out a healing potion and applyed it topically onto Ralof's wound.

"I didn't even know you could rub a potion into the wound, I thought you could only drink it!" Ralof praised, slapping Isobel on the back.

"All it needs is to enter the blood stream." Isobel replied humbly. Gerdur smiled proudly at her.

"Are we really the first to make it to Riverwood?" Ralof asked, suddenly stern.

"Nobody else has come up the south road today, as far as I know." Gerdur replied.

"Good, maybe we can lay up awhile. I'd hate to put your family in danger Gerdur, but..."

"Nonsense, you and Heidi are welcome to stay here as long as you need too. Let me worry about the Imperials. Any friend of Ralof's is a friend of mine." She said staring earnestly at Isobel. "Here's a key to the house, stay as long as you like." Isobel took the key out of Gerdur's gloved hand, struggling to understand why anyone would trust a stranger with a house key. She was beyond grateful, but she couldn't help but think they were a little stupid.

"I ought to get back to work before I missed..." Gerdur turned to Ralof. "But did anyone else escape? Did Ulfric...?"

"Don't worry, I'm sure he made it out. It'll take more than a dragon to stop Ulfric Stormcloak." Ralof laughed.

"I'll let them into the house and, you know, show them where everything is." Hod chipped in. Isobel had forgotten he was even there.

"Help them drink up our mead, you mean." Gerdur said with a smile. "Go. Make yourself at home." Isobel slowly got up and followed the two men to a small stone house with a thatch roof.

"I told you my sister would help us out." Ralof said happily as he sat down at the wooden table inside. Isobel sat down across from him, Hod pulling out loafs of bread and cheese and several bottles of mead.

"So you saw a dragon, did you? Tell me, what was it like? As big as a house?" Hod said, his voice booming as he sat down, making the table shake.

"Maybe you'll see one yourself soon. Helgen isn't that far from here." Isobel half-joked, grabbing the bread right out of his hands before he could put it on her plate.

"Don't even say such things! It's-" Isobel didn't hear his retort though, saliva almost poured out of her mouth as she bit into the bread. Ralof and Hod raised eyebrows and watched her curiously. Even while talking about the war and Frodnar's pranks they watched, surprised that such a petite girl could eat with such fervour.

And, of course, Isobel ate too much, her stomach was tight and visibly stuck out from underneath her Stormcloak armor. She hadn't eaten in three days of non-stop walking, save for some hay in the stables where she slept earlier which was less than satisfying, so she understood why she was able to pile so much into herself. It was the weirdest sensation, having her stomach feel like it was about to burst while it still cried out for more food. Isobel swallowed a few more gulps of mead and asked where she could sleep. Hod pointed to what was probably Frodnar's bed.

"But where will he sleep?" Isobel said with wide eyes.

"He can sleep over at his friend Dorthe's house. For now you need a bed more than him."

Isobel was grateful for only a few seconds before falling asleep as her head hit the pillow.


	3. Chapter 3: The Party

Chapter Three

Isobel awoke almost 24 hours later and became aware to how much she actually reeked. Feeling embarrassed for tainting her host's house she quickly got up and walked briskly to the river. It was dark enough and no one was working at the mill, so she felt safe enough to strip down and wade out into the chilly water. She definitely wasn't used to the cold, but was impressed with how clear the water was and how fresh it tasted, better than any of the dirty rivers in Cyrodiil were. She scrubbed the layers of dirt and oil off her skin and plucked the twigs and leaves out of her hair, her body getting used to the frigid water. Slowly, she raised her hand to her head and carefully cupped it over her bump. Letting her mind clear and eyes close, she felt her hand glow with dim healing light and the pain on her head fading.

Looking up, Isobel understood why the land was called Skyrim, as she stared in awe at the utter vastness of stars and moons. It almost dizzied her, looking that far up into infinity. She heard that many religious people believed that stars were what the Daedra bore into the sky to escape Mundus and the light shining through the apertures was some sort of heaven where souls go. She never believed that stuff, but she indulged herself in imagining her grandfather up there, chatting with Sheograth like he always wanted. Her daydream was cut short by a shuffle of gravel at the bank and she turned sharply to see Gerdur.

"You forgot some clean clothes." She said, smiling and placing a dress and leather boots one a nearby tree stump. "I'm glad you're awake, Ralof and I were scared you were sick." Isobel felt uncomfortable, folding her arms in front of her bare breasts and wishing Gerdur would fuck off. "When you're all clean, come back to the house. Hod made some Horker soup and we've got plenty of mead. You're probably not going to sleep tonight given how much you've slept already, so we'll have a little party, to celebrate Ralof's safe return and the blessing of a new friend." Isobel was getting annoyed, she never knew of somebody, _especially_ a Nord, being so hospitable and friendly towards a stranger and it made her suspicious. Gerdur noticed her unease. "Don't worry child, whatever you're running from won't harm you while in our house. Ralof said you saved his life, and for that I'm forever grateful."

Isobel finally understood how it must feel to be in someones debt for a loved one's life. She would've done the same as Gerdur, if not more, if someone saved her brother. She felt a sharp pain as she thought of her brother.

Isobel's pale, goose bumped legs slowly emerged from the river, water streaming down in little rapids as her wrinkled hands grabbed a piece of cloth Gerdur handed her to dry off and put on her new clothes. They were big, they were for a Nord woman not a Breton, so the sleeves were long and the hem dragged in the dirt. The fire in the small house was welcoming after the cool waters in her bath, and the Horker soup more welcoming still. They didn't have Horkers in Cyrodiil, and the imported stuff wasn't a good as what was in the soup.

It wasn't until Isobel had a tankard did she, for the first time in weeks, relax and feel like her old self, before the catastrophe in Cyrodiil, and perked up considerably. Wanting to loosen up even more, Isobel drank two more full tankards, quite a feat for her light weight.

"Let's get rowdy mother fuckers and make Sanguine proud!" She slurred, clanking her tankard sloppily with Ralof's. The family's jaws dropped, especially Frodnar, who was still innocent in the ways of cursing. None of them had even heard such a swear. "I mean, you guys are so nice...so nice..." Isobel said between gulps. "Do you guys have a flute, playing music for you would be the least I could do for you. I can play a jig better than a brute can play a girl with low self-esteem. Trust me!" Isobel whooped and laughed, continuing to surprise the room from her switch from forlorn and shy to loud and smiley.

Ralof and Gerdur looked at each other in bewilderment.

"A toast for Gray Fox and that Ulfric guy! May they bed fine vension and dine on buxom women!"

Ralof was worried. He was used to rowdy behavior when with his comrades, but Gerdur wouldn't tolerate it, not in her house. He just prayed she would be merciful enough to let the girl have her fun and leave without any drama. _'Please, please, Heidi. Shut up.'_ He tried to tell her with his eyes, giving her pleading looks from across the table. Isobel mistook it for flirting and winked back with a giggle and a hiccup. That's when Gerdur stood up.

"Heidi, stop this drunken nonsense!"

"Relax Miss Riverwood!" Isobel's smile beamed. "It's a party, like you said! You owe me that remember? You owe me a party!" She whooped again as she raised a tankard to Gerdur's fuming face.

"Do not expend my hospitality and use the debt I owe you to manipulate me and disrespect me in my own home. Hod, take Frodnar outside." Hod hesitated, he wanted to stay and see where things went, but the look in Gerdurs eye convinced him otherwise.

"Aw fuck off! Let the boys stay! What kind of shindig is this?" Isobel stood up, genuinely upset. Ralof pulled her back down to her seat.

"Gerdur please, she's been through a lot, you know how crazy men can get on drink. Hell, what she's doing now isn't half as horrible as what some of my fellow soldiers do almost every night. Heidi, stop!" Isobel had sensed that she was about to have her drink taken from her and began to chug the rest of what was left in her mug. Ralof pulled it away from her before she could finish and handed it to Hod, who was standing awkwardly between the door and table with Frodnar.

"Okay. Okay. I'm...I'm sorry...I'm just not used to such..." Gerdur had softened in the name of her brother. Drunkard or not, Heidi had saved him. "Just clean-"

"Please! Please can we have a party!" Isobel sobbed, suddenly emotional. "I just want to have fun, like I used to, I used to be fun! Please!" The family tendered only for a moment. "Give me back my cup, you son of a bitch!"

"Okay, that's it! No more!" Gerdur shouted. "She can drink herself stupid tonight, _outside_, I don't care, but tomorrow morning she is gone! Gone!" Gerdur's tall frame reached over the table and grabbed Isobel but the neck of her dress. Dragging her out the door she yelled, "You sleep here on our doorstep or the Inn tonight, and tomorrow you'll continue to wherever you were going before you got wrapped up in that gods damned ambush. And don't come near Frodnar again!"

She slammed the door on a stumbling and swearing Isobel, making the men in the house jump. Ralof felt uneased, while Hod looked disappointed at a fun night taken away and Frodnar tried to remember every detail so he could tell Dorthe. There was a moment of awkward silence.

"I'll sleep in the bed roll tonight. Frodnar can share a bed with his father and Ralof can take the small bed." Gerdur said, exhausted. Hod and Ralof looked at each other and shrugged. The family started to move to their designated resting places, still replaying the night's events. They were almost asleep when they heard singing from outside.

"They say I am a Savage Flower.

Singing sweet in every tower,

Every curtsey followed by a eerie wink.

Dance and clap to feel my power,

Get fever within the hour.

The first to plague a man and the last to quit my drink!"


	4. Chapter 4: Farewell Ralof

Chapter 4

"How do I get to Whiterun from here?" Isobel drank some tea that Ralof had made to help her hangover, and it was working remarkable well. They were underneath a large pine tree behind Gerdur's house. Isobel knew she had to the leave that day, and that the road to Riften was far and dangerous and wanted to catch a carriage.

"Just head north- you can't miss it. It's the capital of Whiterun Hold." Ralof said, leading against the tree. "Jarl Bulgruuf still hasn't declared for one side or the other, so at least you won't run into any Imperials along the way. And you might want to hurry, Gerdur's already at the mill but if comes back she won't be happy to see you."

"Gods, what did I do last night. My family always had parties where there was dancing and music and fights and...everything. I thought Nords would be rowdier still." Isobel said and she pulled grass out of the ground, sitting cross-legged.

"Well, most Nords are. Just not the ones with children and a town to run."

"Ah." Isobel nodded. "What's in this tea? I'm feeling loads better."

"Boil some water, add some wheat and blisterwort into it and a few snow berries for sweetness. Then just strain it into a cup. It's a brew I learned from a fellow soldier who was passionate about alchemy and drinking, so naturally she'd find a cure for hangovers." Ralof said with a few chuckles. "I'm going to be heading off for Windhelm tomorrow, I need to get back to the field. This land isn't going to free itself."

"Are you sure you're fighting the right people?" Isobel asked before sipping more of her tea. A fire ignited in Ralof's eyes.

"The Empire might've been good for Skyrim once, but since they bowed to the Aldermi Dominion they've shamed us all. People have been dragged from their beds at night and killed, just for worshipping their own gods! The Thalmor are trying to destroy all our culture and traditions, so that we could be like them, and the Empire permits it!"

"Why aren't you guys fighting the Aldermi Dominion then? Why the Empire? You know they're trying to avoid another Great War by keeping that White-Gold Concordant, even if it's at a great cost. I'm sure if the Nords started revolting against the actual Thalmor some of the other provinces, even Cyrodiil, would find the courage to fight too. Trust me, Skyrim isn't the only place being massacred, have you heard what they do in Valenwood?" Ralof thought about this.

"I follow Ulfric." He stated. "He knows the way of war more than I, and I trust him. He's the only one to stand among us and fight for our people. I'd follow him into Sovengarde if I must." Isobel couldn't help but roll her eyes, nothing like blind followers to ruin a country. But then again, the reason she fled to Skyrim in the first place was because of the civil unrest, so maybe she could be a bit grateful they were killing each other.

"Well, I'm heading off." Isobel said standing up. She handed Ralof his cup and looked up into his eyes. "You saved my life, you probably had a better chance of surviving than me, and you took me under your wing. So thank you. I'll remember this. I only wish I had something to give you in return." Ralof put his hand on her shoulder, it slumped under its weight.

"May we met again, friend. Good luck out there."

And with that she started off. She was half down the road when she turned and shouted, "I'm sorry for being a bitch last night!"

Frodnar and Dorthe happened to be nearby and started giggling and whispering to each other. Ralof couldn't help but smirk.

At the mill, Hod watched the woman cross the stone bridge towards the north, Gerdur caught him staring.

"Don't think you could ever pull what she did last night. You want to get drunk, go to a different town. If the townspeople saw you they'd lose respect-"

"Aw calm down Miss Riverwood. Whatever happened to the woman I knew who could drink 5 bottles of Honningbrew Mead and still beat me in a fight?" Hod said. Gerdur frowned at him, but as she turned her back she broke out a smile.


	5. Chapter 5: Ride to Riften

Chapter Five

Isobel reached the capital in little under a hour, not running into any trouble along the way much to her thanks. She walked the stone path that weaved around a few farmsand a meadery and up towards the Whiterun stables. The city looked huge and impressive from outside the walls, what she guessed was the Jarl's Keep towered over the city on its hill. She again was tempted to steal, but decided against it.

Upon approaching the stables she noticed how much larger the horses were than back home, and concluded that everything in Skyrim was bigger and stronger. She spied a carriage with a gray haired man at the reins.

"I'd like to hire your carriage." She spoke loudly over the horses whinnies.

"Sure, I can take you to any of the Hold's capitals." The man replied.

"I need to get to Riften." Isobel started to dig coins out of her pouch. She had 89 septims, a silver necklace and some food and prayed that it'd be enough.

"Yep, that'd be 20 gold." The man said as Isobel sighed in relief. She tried to hand him the money but couldn't reach. He laughed. "Just climb in back and we'll be off."

Isobel jumped into the back of the open wagon and handed him his gold up there. "Lucky you caught me, I was about to tie the horse up and stay at the Inn, nobody travels much these days with the war going on." Isobel sat down and started fiddling with a loose thread in her dress.

_'I hope Gerdur wasn't fond of this dress_.' She thought, feeling guilty.

"How long will it take to get there?" Isobel asked the man.

"Oh, about 8 or 9 hours."

"Oh boy, this is gonna be a long ride." She said.

"If it's your first time in Riften be sure and stop by the Black-Briar Meadery. One glass of that stuff and you'll forget all about the long journey. I'm Bjorlam by the way." Isobel smiled.

"Iso-Heidi." She quickly corrected herself. Bjorlam didn't seem to notice.

They started off. The wagon was rough and resulted in slivers if a hand was placed on the wood during a large bump. Isobel continued fiddling with her dress and gazing at the country side lazily.

"I once gave a ride to a Hagraven, a real Hagraven! Ugly thing she was. Stopped the carriage halfway through the Reach to Rorikstead while I was giving a ride to another lad. Asked if she could tag along and if I could take her just outside of Morthal after the first man was dropped off. I swear to Talos it's true!"

Isobel thought being a carriage driver was the perfect job for someone who liked to talk. Bjorlam had obviously perfected his skill of storytelling over the years, and Isobel was able to pay attention and get fully involved with his tales. A few times a bear or wolf would approach but if Isobel didn't cast Illusion spells at them Bjorlam brought out his bow. He a pretty good shot, Isobel figured he learned how to defend himself as well while chauffeuring people across the province.

They travelled east, taking the northern path around the Throat of the World, the tallest mountain in Skyrim, and then up the steep valley in the Rift. Bjorlam spoke of the time he injected his friends sweet roll with troll fat mixed with some heavy spices and laughed when he recalled how his friend couldn't even yell at him since his tongue was burning and swelling. There was the time when he was a boy one stormy night and mistook his reflection in a mirror as a monster and attacked it, breaking the glass and slicing open his foot. He showed Isobel the scar.

"Oh! This one just happened a few days ago! I was stretching my legs and chatting with Skulvar, the man who owns the stable back in Whiterun. Suddenly a huge, black figure flew through the sky. At first we thought it was some bird but when we looking closer... it was a dragon! I swear on my mother's grave it's true! Horses were going more insane and spooked as I've never seen them. I ran to alert the guards but they had spotted the beast already and drew their bows. But the dragon just flew over, not giving us a single glance, like it knew where it was going. I had such a hard time falling asleep that night, girl. And in the morning we heard of the attack at Helgen! Have you heard of that? Dragon destroyed the village completely! Out of nowhere! So now Whiterun is all locked up, they're not letting anybody in unless they have news of the dragon. Bit rude really, turning away wandering travelers and such."

Isobel was tempted to say she was at Helgen, so she could have a turn at storytelling and talk of how she escaped with Ralof. She sealed her lips though, not wanting that information traveling to the wrong people, Bjorlam could be an Imperial supporter for all she knew. The path they travelled in the Rift had great views of huge cascading waterfalls that fell for leagues. Isobel was in awe. The air was misty from the falls was refreshing in the afternoon heat, the horse enjoyed it most of all. Isobel laid on the wagon floor, watching the sky above her and the clouds blow past.

"So what's bringing you to Riften, girl? Not really the most pleasant of places." Bjorlam asked, drinking some water from a flask.

Isobel tried to think quickly. What was a good lie? She hadn't been to the city and didn't even know of the business' there or the people. In all honesty, she was going to the Thieves Guild.

A heist had gone horribly wrong back in Cyrodiil, Isobel had been notorious before and had her face already on many wanted posters, but now she was actually in trouble with the Empire and needed to leave the province lest she be imprisoned, tortured and/or killed.

Gray Fox told her there was a Guild in Riften, in Skyrim, that would take her in if could find them and prove herself, something someone will her skill could certainly do. The civil unrest would be perfect for a distraction, Imperial soldiers would be more focused on rebels and battles than escaped criminals. He said to stay there until he sent word for her that it was safe, that he would sort things out and bring her home. Isobel ached, she was miserably homesick and was worried about her Guild, her family, back home. Had anyone else been killed?

"I'm visiting my cousin there." Isobel managed to spit out.

"Oh? Who's you're cousin, dear?" Bjorlam said smiling. Isobel fumed.

"Her name's Laure Vencitti. She's coming from Cyrodiil to meet me there."

"Ah, I see. I know a lot of the people in Riften, and you don't look like any of them!" Bjorlam laughed. Isobel grew nervous and forced herself to look back up at the clouds. Bjorlam brought out another one of his stories about how he once picked up a man on the side of the road in women's clothing and make-up. He was saying the man was rambling about a friend named Sam and a staff he owned him, but Isobel had dozed off to the sound of Bjorlam's voice and the water falls.

She was surprised when Bjorlam woke her up and said they were arriving at the Riften Gates. She was grateful, she enjoyed Bjorlam's company but was getting stiff and wanting to find the place she'd call home for gods know how long. She didn't even know where to start looking for it and she imagined it wouldn't be simple finding a major crime organization.

"Thank you so much, Bjorlam." Isobel said as she jumped off the carriage. It was dark out and the clouds prevented any starlight from illuminating the ground.

"Anytime dear, I hope we meet again!" Bjorlam jumping down to unharness his horse and lead it to the stables. Isobel marched up to the gates and walked right into the chest of a guard that stepped in front of her.

"Hold there." He said in a low voice. "Before I let you into Riften, you'll have to pay the Visitor's Tax."

"What for?" Isobel scoffed, that seemed ridiculous. But then again, Whiterun was turning away folks because of a dragon scare.

"For the privilege of entering our city. What does it matter?" Even though the Riften guard's uniform included a helmet that covered his face, it was painfully obvious to Isobel that the guard was fishing for a few more extra coins. There was just a subtle hesitation before he spoke, and seemed to come off too defensive.

"Seriously? This is obviously a shakedown!" Isobel laughed. As a fellow thief she admired his guts even thought he needed to improve his lying skill.

"Alright! Keep your voice down...do you want everyone to hear you? I'll let you in, just let me unlock the gate." He flinched, looking around anxiously. There was another guard there, but she was apparently in on the gig.

"Welcome to Riften traveler, home of the Thieves Guild." She said slyly underneath her helmet. "Or so they'd have you believe. It's all lies. They're just thugs...vermin, creeping around underneath the city." Isobel was confused if the woman guard was a thief and downplaying the Guild to tourists to make them underestimate them, or if she genuinely thought the Guild was just a bunch of scum.

"Gate's unlocked. You can head on in whenever you're ready." The male guard said, a touch of frustration in the voice.

"Thanks. And next time, say it's because you're collecting money for the Temple. People love that charity crap." Isobel waved as she closed the gate behind her.

She turned and looked into the city and down the street. The air was grey and hazy for some indiscernible reason, and smelled like moist dirt and moss. And it was dark. Darker than cities ought to be. Isobel slowly started to put one foot in front of the other. She nervously walked down a stone path with housing lining each side, further ahead she could see a large building with a light illuminating it's sign, and knew it must be the Inn.

"Careful." A guard said behind her, making her jump violently with a gasp. "Riften's not the safest place to take a night-time stroll." He continued walking past her, as if he simply said a greeting instead of something so ominous. Isobel's heart started to slow after a few breaths before she heard a whispering in the shadows.

"Psst!" Isobel looked into the darkness, her eyes adjusting. A man in full steel armor was leaning on a post of a house's balcony with crossed arms. He had black hair that was pulled back and a layer of stubble along his strong jaw. He looked like he could bite a leather belt in half and chew the pieces.

"I don't know you. You in Riften looking for trouble?" He growled. Isobel had to force herself to look into his dark, deep-set eyes, trying to gain some courage.

"I'm just passing through." Isobel said and tried turning away.

"Hey!" He hissed and Isobel froze. "There's something you have to know if you're gonna be spendin' any time here. The Black-Briars? They have Riften in their pocket and the Thieves Guild watchin' their back, so keep your nose _out_ of their business." Isobel frowned, what was this man talking about? "Me? I'm Maul. I watch the streets for 'em. If you need dirt on anythin', I'm your guy... but it'll cost you." He continued staring at her. Isobel thought hard. If this man, Maul, was affiliated with people who affiliated with the Thieves Guild, she might be able to ask him valuable information on how to find them without him ratting her out to guards.

"I want to know where to find the Thieves Guild." Isobel said assertively, feeling confident now that she knew where she stood in the conversation.

"You heard. You want the dirt, pay up."

"Dirt, huh...? Well, I'm not exactly clean myself..." Isobel said, checking to see if the coast was clear before slowly untying the strings in the front of her dress. Maul grinned.

"Then we're speaking the same language. Good. What do you want to know."

"Do you know anything about the Thieves Guild?" Isobel asked, keeping the front of dress open but still covering her breasts.

"You kiddin'? My brother Dirge works in their hideout. I used to run with them myself, but took a job with Maven after they started hittin' a rough patch. If you want to get in on that action, find Brynjolf in the marketplace. I'm sure he could use someone like you, in more ways than one." Maul chuckled, moving forward and reaching out. Isobel put her hand on his chest and stopped him.

"Trust me, I'm pretty sure you're too big, one can't afford to be walking bow-legged in these dangerous times."Isobel said as a violent look appeared on Maul's face. "But don't worry, maybe after a few dinners and a moonlight stroll something might bloom." Isobel reached up to stroke his cheek. As soon as her hand made contact his eyes softened and teeth unclenched.

"Okay." He said. "I'll see you around. Be safe. Riften isn't friendly, during the day or night." He smiled foolishly. Isobel's hand stopped glowing green.


	6. Chapter 6: A Chance Arrangement

Chapter Six

Isobel awoke in the morning with several cow licks in her already scruffy hair. Her room was cramped and her bed hard. It wasn't the most luxurious Inn she had slept in, but it was the only one, and Maul told her the man she needed to see was in the Marketplace, which only operated during the day.

"Ugh." She stood up and stretched, her back releasing several cracks. She headed down the stairs to the tavern and sat down at a table against the wall.

"Welcome to the Bee and Barb, milady." A male Argonian approached her, still sweeping the floor he asked he could get her any breakfast. Isobel ordered an apple and some tea, which was all she could afford despite heavily craving a cigarette.

The tavern was still quite empty, it was morning and most people were probably at work, but there was a man in mage's robes all the way across the room by himself and what looked like a father and son seated at a table to her right. The father and son weren't talking, instead they looked into their cups with forlorn expressions. The Argonian proprietor was chatting with another female Argonian who worked the bar, and Isobel could tell they were in love. They were arguing about running out of Black-Briar mead, but neither of them looked vicious. They had that look of earnest concern and sorrow on their faces as they spoke of raising prices.

Isobel felt a sharp flare of envy at them. They had each other, even in the face of poverty and struggle. Isobel felt so desperately alone in that moment at her table, staring down into her tea. She had never been without somebody in her entire life, and the desolation and solitude she felt in that moment made a lump in her throat. She missed the Guild in Cyrodiil, she wanted to play flute while her friend, Silas, strummed the lute and make people dance. She missed late night scout missions along the beautiful Imperial buildings. She missed training new recruits, supporting her brothers and sisters in times of need, the proud look Gray Fox had when she completed a tough job. She missed doing _something_. Something other than running.

With that she cast one more jealous look at the lowly father and son and stood up, placing 8 coins on her table before exiting the building and into the square. It was then that Isobel realized the city was built half on land and half on Lake Honrich. The entire west side of the city was simply a sturdy pier, with wooden planks and docks attaching itself to the cobblestone streets on solid land over canals and moats.

The market was on the pier side and was quaint but impressive for such a poor city. Four stalls, a black smith, a produce wagon, the Black-Briar meadery and beside that a small little shop. Isobel sighed, the air was still hazy and the sky overcast. She couldn't smell any rain but knew it was entirely possible.

"Spare a coin for an old beggar?" Coughed a dirty man sitting on some crates as she passed. Normally Isobel was eager to develop friendly relationships with beggars, for they were usually ignored by society and hence able to spy and eavesdrop for information in exchange for pay. But Isobel didn't have any coin to give him, not until she found work in the Guild. People were shouting their wares to the streets, and shoppers slowly started to move in. In the center of the market there was a large well, and she strolled up and leaned on it. It was covered in fungus and moss and emitted a weird smell from its depths, obviously it wasn't in use anymore.

"Running a little light in the pockets, lass?" She turned to see a red-haired man in some fine clothing. Even though his face was straight, his green eyes seemed to smirk at her.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Your pockets... they're a little low on coin. I can tell." He said, crossing his arms.

"How could you possibly...?" But Isobel could already guess this was the man she was looking for.

"Your coin pouch is flat. You're standing in the middle of a busy market, and instead of even looking at wares you're staring down a dirty well." The man eyed her up. "And that dress definitely isn't yours." Isobel was impressed, trying not to let it show as he leaned on the well beside her. "It's all about sizing up your mark, lass. The way they walk... what they're wearing, it's a dead giveaway." He seemed professional and sly, she knew she had to be the same if she was to get what she wanted.

"Well,_ Brynjolf_, any suggestions where I can find work around here?" The Nord raised his eyebrows.

"Impressive, lass. How'd you manage to figure who I was?"

"It's all about making people sing their secrets. What their weaknesses are... what they like to hear." Isobel nodded her chin at Maul, who was standing at his post down the street. "All you had to do was talk to me about money, and I knew you were the guy I was looking for."

"Is that so?" Brynjolf lit up a bit although he still tried to play cool. "Well, if it's coin you're after, I've got a bit of an errand to run, and need an extra pair of hands. And in my business, extra hands are _very_ well paid." Brynjold spoke softly, trying not to attract attention from the surrounding shoppers.

"What do I have to do?" Isobel asked, leaning in.

"Simple. I'm gonna cause a distraction and you're going to steal Madesi's ring from the strong box under his stand. He's the lizard-man behind me." She could see the Argonian standing at a jewelry stall. "Once you have the ring, you have to plant it in Brand-Shei's pocket." He then pointed his eyes at a Dark Elf opposite the market. "You up for it?"

"Why plant the ring on Brand-Shei?" Isobel asked, knowing a corrupt task giver will never say the reason behind a job.

"There's someone that wants to see him put out of business. Permanently. He's been poking his nose in some dangerous matters, and in all honesty, we're probably doing him a favour putting him behind bars before he gets killed. Tell me when you're ready and we'll get started."

"Okay, I'm ready." Isobel felt stupid grinning, but she was excited to prove herself to this man and do what she did best at.

"Good. Wait until everyone is distracted, and then show me what you're made of." Brynjolf muttered, not sparing any time walking back to his empty stand."Everyone! Everyone! Gather 'round! I have something amazing to show you that demands your attention!"

"Come on, Brynjolf. What is it this time?" Brand-Shei groaned.

"Patience, Brand-Shei. This is a rare opportunity, and I wouldn't want you to get left out." Brynjolf continued waving people over.

"That's what you said about the Wisp Essence and it turned out to be crushed nirnroot mixed with water!" Madesi said, in his raspy Argonian voice, as soon as he passed Isobel she wandered over to his stall and got to work.

Crouching behind the stand she pulled out her lockpicks, the stall's cupboard was locked and she inserted the first pick without hesitation. Her ear detected satisfying clicks after a few seconds and the door slid open with ease. Next was the strongbox, it was a little trickier, but she managed to open that as well and plucked the ring from inside, also taking some necklaces and gems with her. She peeked beyond the stand, everyone was still listening to Brynjolf.

"Lads and lasses, I give you, the FalmerBlood Elixer!" He held up a large bottle that contained a red liquid inside.

"Oh come on, are you talking about the Snow Elves?" Brand-Shei scoffed sitting on some crates in front of his stand.

"The one and only! Mystical beings who lived in legends and were masters of great magic. Imagine the power that coursed through their veins!" Isobel had to admit, she couldn't blame the crowd for not lapping it up.

"How did you get that then? No one's seen them for years!" Brand-Shei shouted. Isobel had just crept behind the crates he was sitting on, his left pocket was reachable and slightly open. Delighted in her luck at such a prized position for her task, Isobel slowly placed the ring on the inside of Brand-Shei's pocket and let it roll into its depths silently. Quickly retracting her hand and retreating, she stood up and joined the crowd around Brynjolf. He continued for a while longer as Isobel watched him try to work the tough crowd. One by one they wandered off, cursing and groaning, leaving Brynjolf within nothing but red bottles and no coin. Once the last shopper left he beckoned her over.

"Looks like I hired the right person for the job, lass." He said producing a small bulging coin purse from his inside pocket and placing it in Isobel's already waiting hand. "The way things have been going lately, I'm surprised our plan went through without a hitch."

"What's be going on?" Isobel looking up from her new coin pouch.

"Bah, my organization is having a run at bad luck." Brynjolf shrugged his shoulders, but Isobel could tell it something more was up. He saw her catching on and spoke before she could ask more questions. "I suppose that's just how it goes. But never mind that, you did the job and you did the job well. And best of all, there's more where that come from... if you can handle it." There was something in the tone he said those last words with that made Isobel grin.

"Trust me, I can handle it."

"Let's put that to the test then. The group I represent makes its home in the Ratways...in the Ragged Flagon. Get there in one piece, and we'll really see if you have was it takes."

"Wait, where's the Ratway?" Isobel asked as he walked past her. He turned and looked at her, and then giving her a wink and a charming smile, continued towards the Temple across the square.

Isobel watched him go, feeling both satisfied and hungry. Hungry for more jobs. Hungry for social interaction again. She could tell she liked Brynjolf already, and was anxious to meet the rest of the Guild. But now she had to prove herself again.

_'I don't think I should go back to Maul this time, but who else is there?_' Isobel thought. Suddenly a commotion behind her made her turn.

"What in the blazes are you talking about?" Brand-Shei shouted at the Riften guard at his stall.

"Don't play stupid. I said turn out your pocket now!" The guard demanded.

"I'm telling you I don't...wait, what's this ring? This isn't mine!"

"That's right, it isn't. You're under arrest Brand-Shei." The guard nodded her head at Isobel as she held a sword to Brand-Shei and started to guide him to the dungeons. Isobel recognized her as the female guard at the gates the previous night, and remembered...

_'They're just thugs...vermin, creeping around underneath the city'..._


	7. Chapter 7: Into the Well

Chapter Seven

Isobel scouted the whole city looking for a place that could lead underground. No manholes, no grates large enough for even a dog to fit in, and no accessible sewer pipes leading out into the lake. She spent the whole cloudy afternoon wandering like a child throughout the town. She sighed frustrated, and sat on a bench and began people watching, the distant _clang clang clang_ of the blacksmith's hammer and anvil filling the air.

Suddenly Isobel perked up as she looked at the center of the square. 'The well! Of course! How could I be so stupid!' She walked over and looked into its depths. Picking off a piece of rumble from the stone ground of the market, Isobel dropped it down the well. It took about 2 seconds for her to hear it hit the ground. Ground, which Isobel was glad for, and not water.

The well didn't have rope, so she needed to nab that. That night she walked along the Riften docks, looking for any rope that wasn't holding a boat to the wooden poles. She scavenged in one of the boat's cargo, found some that looked long enough and snuck back into the city through the North Gates, where her two familiar guards nodded at her.

Trying her best to keep out of the patrolling guards eyesight, she positioned the rope in the pulley and tied both ends in a sturdy knot around her waist, forming a kind of conveyer belt between herself and the pulley. She slowly climbed into the opening, held onto the rope tight and slowly started to lower herself into the void. She had down this many times when infiltrating places from above, and had to make sure the slack rope wouldn't dangle too far below her and give her position away to any enemies.

When her foot first touched the solid surface below she quickly retreated it. It was wood, heavily rotting wood, and in the cracks of the planks light peeked out. She held herself there, her arms getting tired as she tried to figure out what was below the wooden barricade. Finding some sturdier ground around the edge of the well, she kneeled down and looked between a crack. She couldn't see much, but she could hear running water and what sounded like conversation. Shifting her position a bit she leaned closer, but before she knew it the wood beneath her broke from under her and she was falling.

Isobel's stomach dropped as she plummeted, the wind from the fall blinding her. Suddenly she felt a pull on the rope that nearly snapped her in two and opened her eyes to see was dangling about 10 feet off the stone floor. She awkwardly tried looking around, and saw that several men in dark outfits of leather and straps were all staring at her. In unison they all scrambled, flying towards her with their daggers and bows drawn. With a shriek she started to pull herself back up the rope, but the pulley had apparently been loosened by her fall and broke, sending her crashing the remaining distance from the floor onto her back, knocking the wind out of her. The pulley landed, cracking the stone a few inches from her head.

The men surrounded her as she gulped and convulsed like a fish out of water, straining to get air back in her lungs.

"Who the fuck is this?"

"I've never seen her in Riften."

"We have to kill her, we can't risk anything!"

"Stop!" A man pushed through the swarm of men, gazing down at her with cold, icy eyes. He kneeled down, trapping her gaze in his. Isobel started to panic. Where was Brynjolf? Did they know she was coming? "Who are you?" The grim man said, pulling out a steel dagger and slowly placing the tip on Isobel's cheek. The room was silent as a crypt as Isobel strained to speak.

"Brynjolf knows." She gasped finally, in what seemed like an eternity. With that the man grabbed her by the hair and yanked her up. A few yelps of pain escaped her lips as the man dragged her across the underground dwelling and through a door. Struggling and clawing at the man, trying to channel her magic but too panicked to concentrate, she stumbled down only to have him yank her hair even harder, she could feel strands being ripped out of her scalp. Suddenly he pulled her head up and she found herself looking into a tavern with more dark outfitted people. She spotted Brynjolf immediately at the bar.

"Dying breed, eh? What do you call that then?" Brynjolf said to the bartender serving him.

"How did she...?" The bartender said, completely confounded.

"Brynjolf? You know this bitch?" The ice eyed man barked, pulling Isobel's head up higher making her stand on her tiptoes.

"Relax, Mercer. This is the one I was talking about...our new recruit. Heidi."

Mercer turned Isobel's head to look at her, his hot breath blowing down across her wet face.

"This better not be a waste of the Guild's resources, Brynjolf." He growled before letting her go with a sharp push. Isobel stumbled and tripped, taking a moment to compose herself before crawling back up.

"Mercer, stop it. No need harming the lass." Brynjolf replied. "She obviously found our hideaway in a way no one else has. Shouldn't that mean something?"

"Sure, but she would've been killed if I didn't push off the boys." Mercer said coldly. "You know what to do. Make sure she's legit, set her up, show her around, drill into her head how we do things around here. I've got work to do." Mercer turned. "And Delvin, we're going to need to rebarricade the well."

"I'll get right to it, boss." A stubbly man at a nearby table saluted, still somewhat shocked.

"Good." And with that Mercer left. Isobel stood, awkwardly meeting the gaze of the thieves staring at her. She felt naked and vulnerable and looked to Brynjolf for reassurance, he nodded and stood up. Placing his arm around her he pointed at the bartender.

"That's Vekel, Vekel the Man, he owns the Ragged Flagon. He's not a thief, but we consider him one of us, so don't mess with him. Get on his good side, and he'll give you free drinks. This over here," Brynjold guided her to a scowling woman with white-blonde hair. "Is Vex. She's a master lock picker, so you come to her if you need any training. She also is in charge of handing out some jobs, so you better be visiting her often if you're to earn your keep here." The woman, Vex, continued to stare coldly at Isobel before Brynjolf pulled her away to meet a large, bulky man in leather armor. "Say hello to Dirge lass, he's our lookout and head basher if anyone causes trouble." Isobel recognized the name.

"You're Maul's brother, aren't you?" She said softly, trying to be friendly. Dirge just looked at her and crossed his arms and grunted. Feeling put down Brynjolf quickly directed her attention to the stubbled man eating a Horker steak at a table.

"That's Delvin Mallory." He said. "You swipe something that looks special, bring it to this lad, he'll tell you exactly what it is and set a good price. He also hands out jobs around the province, and is in touch with all sorts of important people." Finally, somebody smiled at her and Isobel almost burst into tears in relief.

"You know me, I'm second in command here. And well... you've already met the Guild Master." Brynjolf said empathetically, removing his arm around her and patting her on the back. Isobel wished he kept his arm there, she felt like she was a lamb in a lion's den. "Now, I'll take you to Tonilia and set up you up with some of the Guild armor. You're one of us now." Even though his voice was clear throughout the room, there was no applause or recognition that the mysterious woman had just become one of them.

Brynjolf brought Isobel towards a Redguard woman that was sitting farther away, out on a wooden porch attached to the tavern. "Heidi, this is Tonilia, she's our pawnbroker here. You come around something you don't actually own and she'll buy it from you. Tonilia, this is Heidi, our newest member. Think you can dress her like one of us?"

"I'll get to work on finding a good size." Tonilia said, looking Isobel up and down to get approximate measures. "There's not many left so I may have to import one if none fit. Come back in the morning, and I'll show you want I got."

"Good. Come on, lass. I'll show you to the living quarters. Though I suppose you've already seen them." Brynjolf brought her back through the Flagon and opened a large mead cabinet, revealing a false back panel that opened. She hadn't seen it when Mercer dragged her through it, and walked through into the small hallway that led to the cistern.

"This door right here is the latrine, and inside there is another door leading to a tin tub if you ever need to wash. Most of us just go to the lake to bathe, but sometimes we indulge in a hot bath, Delvin especially." They continued down the hall to where where Brynjolf pointed to a second door. "This is Tonilia and Vekel's room, they've been together for awhile now, and this is basically their little house, so don't go in."

Isobel stuck really close the Brynjolf when they entered themain door to the cistern. It was a large, open area. Circular, with beds facing towards the center against the curved walls. One section had shelves and a desk, filled with important looking papers. No one was sleeping, all the men were trying to act natural, chatting to one another or sharpening a dull blade, but Isobel could feel them stealing glances.

"Here, this is yours." Brynjolf pointed to the first bed on the right. "I sleep in the bed over there next to the kitchen, but if you need anything, be a big girl and fend for yourself." Isobel couldn't tell if he was joking or not, but she knew he was right, she couldn't hold onto his hand like a child anymore. She felt stupid being so fragile, it wasn't a part of her character at all. "There's a training room beyond that passage where the alchemy station is on the left, kitchen's to the right. The treasure room and Mercer's private quarters are directly across from us, through those big steel doors. Don't go in there either."

"You can meet your new comrades in the morning, for now sleep. Goodnight, lass." He said as he passed her, walking back to the tavern.

"Brynjolf, wait." He looked back curiously. Isobel noticed a large scar that looked like a knife wound across his left cheek. "How did you find out my name, I didn't tell you at the market, or Maul." Brynjolf smiled.

"Bjorlam." He simply said.

"Well, joke's on you. My name isn't Heidi. It's Isobel." She said with a little smile. Brynjolf returned the grin and shook his head at himself.

"You're really turning out to be quite the prize, lass." And with that he continued out the door, leaving Isobel in a room full of strangers.

If Isobel had felt lonely that morning, she felt miserable that night. Filling herself with self-loathing as she tried to hold tears back as they slid out. It was freezing cold in the cistern and the whole night she prayed to the Gods she didn't believe in that she would be home soon, and not in the company of these people. Light was starting to pour in the hole in the ceiling where she crashed in before she was able to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8: Rise and Shine

Chapter Eight

"Rise and shine, little lady."

Isobel sat up in her bed like a lightning bolt, beside her a man was holding out a wooden plate with a slice of bread on it.

"I know it's not much," He said, looking at the pitiful breakfast. "But I warmed it up by the fire a bit to soften it, otherwise it's like eating a rock." Isobel untangled her dress from the thin sheets and took the plate. She wasn't going to let a friendly gesture go to waste in that gods forsaken place.

"Thank you." She said, gratefully. "Sorry about alarming you guys last night, that was kind of stupid of me."

"Yeah, you definitely gave us a scare, but we _are_ impressed. No one's ever figured out the well leads down to the cistern, and it looks so much better in here with some natural light streaming in. I'm Rune by the way" The man had dirty brown hair and gentle eyes, he reminded her of a friendly dog.

"Rune, eh? That's a cool name, what's it mean?" She gestured for him to sit while she shifted to lean against the head of the bed with the plate in her lap.

"Well, my father told me he found me as a young boy in the wreckage of a ship that sank off of the coast near Solitude. All he found in my pocket was a tiny smooth stone inscribed with some sort of strange runes. Thought it was fitting I suppose. I never changed it, because it never felt right to do so." He said with a meek smile.

"_Ooooh_, that's so mysterious, do you know what the rune means?"

"No one does." Rune said sadly. " I've even taken the damn thing to the College of Winterhold! I must have spent every last coin I've made with the Guild trying to find out what it means. Perhaps, they could be nonsense... inane scribbles done by someone in idle boredom. But if not... if they actually mean something, they might tell me where I'm from... what ship was I on. Everything."

"Well, I'll keep an eye out for you. We're brothers and sisters in crime now, so don't be a stranger." Isobel said as she finished her bread. Rune raised his eyebrows.

"You _are_ strange. Did you just call me your brother?"

"Yeah. Why, is that weird?"

"It's just that we don't really consider this Guild a family. We don't really bond like siblings would. It's all about coin down here." Rune said.

"Well, why did you wake me up for breakfast in bed and tell me your life story if we're all about business, you fool." Isobel retorted, Rune couldn't help but smile.

"Bryn was right, there is something about you that's different. You're definitely gonna stand out down here. Speak of the devil!" Rune stood up as Brynjolf approached, tying together the fine clothes Isobel saw him wearing in the market.

"Isobel, you're finally up. Go see Tonilia, she's got Guild armor for you." He nodded to Rune who returned the gesture. "I see you've meet Rune. Good." And continuing to adjust his clothes started to take off.

"Brynjolf, wait!" Isobel stood up quickly. "I need to speak to Mercer first." Rune and Brynjolf stared.

"What in Oblivion about, lass?" He said, staring at her with apprehensive confusion.

"I need to issue some terms with him." The two men started to grow upset.

"Who are you to make deals with the Guild Master? You're a junior member!" Brynjolf exclaimed. "After what happened last night you want to pick another fight with him?"

"I'm not going to fight. Trust me, he needs to hear me out." Isobel said calmly. "Honestly." She looked intently at both of them. Brynjolf groaned heavily.

"Run it by me first, I don't want him ripping off your head again." He said and grabbed her by the arm hastily, leading her to a wooden table as Rune watched them go before wandering off. They sat down facing each other.

"Now, what is this you need to say to Mercer so bad about."

"That I'm not going be a permanent member." Isobel said, trying to read Brynjolf face for a reaction. She knew she needed to get the message across to Mercer to give him a heads up for when he got Gray Fox's letter, but she didn't want to tell of her botched assignment and how she failed her Guild.

"You realize we're not too keen on investing in crooks who are only in to raise enough coin to take off again. This Guild isn't a day job lass, it's a lifetime commitment." Brynjolf said with his teeth clenched. "If you're one of them, leave now."

"I'm not. I belong to another Guild. The Thieves Guild in the Imperial City." This changed Brynjolf's gaze from angry to confused.

"Why are you here then? I hear that Guild's off good."

"It is. But..." Isobel struggled to come out with the words. "I was a part of a heist that went sour. I had some hounds on my trail trying to sniff me out so Gray Fox sent me here until it was safe again."

"You know Gray Fox.?" Brynjolf raised sitting more upright.

"Yes...we're...we're close." Isobel stammered. "I need to speak to Mercer about this so he knows ahead of time, it won't be for at least a few more months before the mere possibility of me going back is even relevant, but it'll probably be longer."

"What happened on your heist? Should we expect bounty hunters bursting in through our ceiling and killing everyone to get at you?" Brynjolf questioned. The answer was yes, but Isobel couldn't afford to be kicked out, this was her only hope.

"No. They'll be looking for me in Cyrodiil, they can't enter Skyrim."

"And the heist?"

"It was...um.."Isobel wanted to tell the truth to Brynjolf, she respected him, and tried to be honest but without giving too many details. "I was in charge of stealing something important, _very_ important, from someone with a lot of power. But almost every part of my plan fell apart, it was too dangerous for me to hang around."

"That's pretty vague, lass. What else happened?"

"It doesn't matter." Isobel said assertively. "What matters is that I'm here and eager to earn my keep until I can return home." Brynjolf was still unsatisfied. "Listen, I doubt you know every thief in here's back story. I haven't seen a group of people with so many secrets and closed doors among them as here, and I've only been here one night." Brynjolf could tell she wasn't lying about being able to see through the Guild's facade.

"Fine, I'll you see Mercer." Brynjolf said exasperated. He led her to the large, sinister steel doors adjacent to them in the room and knocked. "Boss. Somebody wants to speak with you." The door opened a crack and Isobel saw the unmistakable icey eye that belonged to her new Guild Master.

"The new girl?" He said stepping out of the room before Isobel could see what was inside. "What does she want?"

"She needs to-"

"Let her speak for herself." Mercer hissed, never taking his eyes of Isobel.

"I would like if I could talk to you about some important matters involving my contribution to the Guild." She said, not a single quiver in her voice. She was switching into business mode, and she needed Mercer to know she wasn't afraid of him.

"Oh do you?" He said, strolling over to the wooden desk filled with papers. "You think I'm the type of leader to have his lowest understudies boss him around like a school yard bully? You definitely didn't show such courage last night."

"I think you'll find my terms satisfying, given your already blooming resent for me." Isobel followed his side, taking a place across his desk to face him as he sat down.

"You just like to say it as it is, eh? You arrogant little girl."

"I only lie when it brings me profit." Isobel leaned on the desk towards him. Brynjolf did not like where this was going. He started to wonder what position Isobel held at her Guild back home, and if that was the reason she openly defied authority so valiantly.

"Brynjolf, you can leave." Mercer said as he opened a bottle of ale and propped his feet up on his desk. Brynjolf hesitated, looking at Isobel who gave him a stern nod. He turned away, tapping a Wood Elf and a very muscular man on the shoulders and gestured for them to keep an eye on things.

"So, what is it you so desperately want to talk about?" Mercer said after taking a long drink.

"I need you to be aware that I'm not going to be a permanent member." Mercer's reaction was the same as Brynjolf's before she continued. "I belong to the Thieves Guild in Cyrodiil. I had some Imperials I needed to shake off my back so I fled to Skyrim. I'm here until I'm sent word that it's safe for me to go home."

"So, I'm just going to let a little bounty dodger live under my roof while she waits for the bad guys to go home?"

"Yes. I'm not sure how long I'll be here, but I promise you I will use the maximum extent of all my skills on the jobs you see fit for me...and I won't ask for a cut on any of my tasks." With this Mercer perked up.

"No pay, eh? What's the catch?"

"You give me bed and protection. Money for food and lodging if I'm to travel abroad. I may provide myself with weapons or equipment that better the quality of my tasks but will indulge in no luxury. Everything I steal, pickpocket, and bribe will be given to the Guild. That is, until Gray Fox sends request for me to return to my Guild. In which case I will leave immediately." She stared into Mercer's eyes without breaking contact.

"Gray Fox. It's been years since we've heard from him. He hasn't really been chatting with us as much as he used to since we've been going under. Why, the last letter he sent was to Delvin 5 years ago." Isobel waited as Mercer churned over things in his head."You make a very tempting offer." He said, dropping his feet to the ground and sitting up. "But how to I know you'll keep your word."

"I do anything that breaks this deal you have permission to ship me back to the Imperial City in a crate of dead skeevers."

"Make it live skeevers and I'll agree."

"Done."

"Good."

And they shook hands.


	9. Chapter 9: How to Tame a Fire

Chapter Nine

Brynjolf was standing at his stall in the market, lightly tapping a rhythm on the wooden counter. The sun was struggling to shine through the clouds, submerging some streets into shadows and some into warm light. Brynjolf was lucky enough to be on the sunny side as he called out his elixirs to passerby's.

"Live for thousands of years, only for 100 gold." He said half-heartedly, worried about what was going on in the cistern below him. It hadn't even been 24 hours and his new recruit was creating drama. He was beginning to regret his decision bringing her in, but as he recalled her display in the market the previous day and her infiltration into the Guild he couldn't imagine passing her up. He could tell she was going to be a great asset, if only he could rein her in a bit. He would have to work on that.

In his peripherals he saw a woman and turned to see the Bunkhouse maid, Svana Far-Shield, peering at him from behind a produce stand. He knew the sweet girl had a crush on him, and gave her a smirk and a wave before she blushed profusely and fled. He was somewhat amused until he saw who had to be Isobel emerge out from the Temple of Mara's yard.

"Armor looks good, you don't look like a ratty little girl anymore." He said as she approached.

"You said Delvin and Vex would have jobs for me! Both of them said they didn't have anything! What Guild doesn't have jobs?" Isobel harshly whispered once she got close."And is Vex always such a bitch?"

"Relax, lass. That's just how she gets things done. And we don't know all your strengths and weaknesses yet, we wouldn't give you a fishing job if you couldn't pickpocket."

"You saw me pickpocket yesterday."

"No, I saw you plant something. Not even the same thing." He saw her get disappointed. "Listen, tonight we'll meet in the training room and you can show me what you can do. Once we feel more confident in you we'll give you some work. I can only imagine you want some coin after-"

"I'm not getting paid. That's one of the terms I have with Mercer." Isobel said as she jumped and sat on the stone wall by Brynjolf's stand. "I do work for free and he gives me a temporary home."

"Really? That's a hefty bargain to keep." Brynjolf said and rubbed his chin. He'd heard of men who gave a large chunk of their cut up but not entirely.

"If that's what it takes I'll do it." Isobel shrugged, kicking her feet against the wall. "Who's your friend there?" She nodded her head to the beggar sitting beside Brynjolf's stand.

"Oh, that's Edda. That's just been her spot for the past few decades, we've had plenty of good chats over the years. Haven't we Edda?" He asked loudly over his stand towards the dirty old woman. All that came out of her was a few wheezy coughs. "I suppose you should learn about the townsfolk here, always good knowing your targets."

"Yeah, I'll admit, stealing in a foreign country with complete strangers is kind of intimidating. " Isobel said as she reached for a Falmerblood Elixir. "Can I drink one? Just for kicks? Maybe someone passing will see me drinking it and buy one."

"You don't want to drink that stuff, lass." Brynjolf chuckled.

"Thank gods you're smiling. I was almost scared the alluring man I met in the market yesterday was a ghost." Isobel snickered and pushed his arm with her foot, causing him to smile more.

"Yeah? Well, I got certain new recruit that's making me a little stressed, so forgive me." Brynjolf said as he grabbed her foot and threw it back.

"You shouldn't be, I can handle myself." She said earnestly. "Maybe it _is_ a good idea for me to just settle in a bit before doing work though. I need to scout this area and learn about the people, get to know my new comrades, and I really need to figure out how you guys do things around here."

"It's simple. Do what we say."

"Why would I want to be a zombie? I like to know the reasons behind the jobs I do."

"I don't know how they do things in Cyrdoiil lass, but you're a guest, you play by our rules while under our roof. Do you understand me?" Brynjolf said. He took the bottle from her hands and grabbed her chin, forcing her to make eye contact with him. Her pupils were constricted in the direct sunlight, making the blue irises stand out even more. "You obviously held a good rank back in your Guild, but in this one you're the bottom of the pile. You mess with dangerous people, lass." Isobel seemed to get the hint now that he spoke sternly into her eyes.

"I know. I'm just not used to so much tension, but I suppose that's because of your Guild's bad luck." She said looking down as he let go. "In my Guild we all get along, we treat each other like family and support each other. Yeah, there are senior members, and yes, I'm one of them," Brynjolf knew it but couldn't help being a little shocked that someone so young held such a high rank."But that didn't stop us from socializing from the juniors or give us reason to intimidate them like Vex or Mercer do."

"Well, our Guild's a business, we intimidate and push so that we may feel consequences if we fail. If a lad's on the verge of being arrested, he's going to try a hell of a lot harder to escape if he knows there's going to be an angry den of thieves awaiting his return. He's not going to try if his boss is just going to bail him out and coddle him. I try not care about any of the members on a personal scale as much as I can lass, makes things too complicated."

"Maybe it's better having someone risk their life because they respect you, not because they fear you." Isobel scowled, Brynjolf's head snapped to face her, surprised by her serious tone. "Maybe that's why your squabbling Guild is in ruins and mine is living in luxury." He felt a wave of anger wash over him, but before he could open his mouth someone called his name.

"Brynjolf!" It was the court wizard, Wylandria. "That Greenmote you gave me didn't generate the radiation of viscerotonic acrasia you said it would. Didn't you say you checked for lice?"

"Yes, Wylandira, I did. Try again in uh... three nights, it should recharge by then.." Byrnjolf looked back at the stone wall to see it was empty. "Damn it." He muttered as his eyes searched the area.

"Damn it...? Of course! You're a genius Brynjolf!" Wylandriah cried as she rushed back to Mistveil Keep with the grace of a horker, leaving Brynjolf rubbing his face in his hands with frustration. Isobel was definitely going to be a challenge.

Almost as soon as Wylandirah was out of sight another figure approached. This time it was Maul.

"Dirge told me you got a new recruit. Short, with black hair? You've seen her?" He barked.

"Yes. Isobel was inducted last night." Brynjolf replied. '_Shit, now what did she do_?'

"Tell her she still hasn't paid for the information I gave her." He growled. "And I'm not letting it go."

"Here." Brynjolf took out his coin pouch. "How much did she-"

"She didn't offer coin, and I don't want it." Maul interrupted, his expression turned more twisted. "She offered her body, and I don't like getting ripped off."

"You touch that lass and you'll have the entire Guild to answer to, I don't care about your service to Maven, I will personally open up your belly." Brynjolf said sinisterly, making sure Maul saw him clutch his dagger. "Her debt is gone, that's final." And Maul, knowing had no authority over Brynjolf, stormed off cursing before punching a wooden crate out of anger. Brynjolf breathed out in relief and continued running his stand, keeping his green eyes peeled for the young girl without avail.

It was only when the sun was over half way across the sky did he catch a glimpse of a woman darting across the Black-Briar Manor's roof.

* * *

The mosquitoes were starting to come out when Brynjolf decided to pack up his stand. He walked into the Ragged Flagon that night empty handed. He hadn't sold a single bottle that day, but was too distracted with how he was going to manage Isobel to be concerned.

"Hey, laddie." He half-smiled at Dirge as he entered the tavern. He untied his blue overcoat and hung it on a chair across from Delvin before plopping down into it.

"Something troublin' ya? I'll listen." Delvin looked up from his letter. "Something to do with new girl I'm guessing?" Devlin was always such a rock to lean on, Brynjolf always wondered how he was able to do such things without getting exhausted. He wasn't sure if could confide in Delvin, he had just told Isobel hours earlier that the Guild didn't have deep discussions about personal matters. But he needed advice, and technically, talking about a member of the Guild was business.

"Aye, she's turning out to be a fire cracker." He replied. Vekel walked over and handed him a bottle of mead.

"She didn't seem that way last night with Mercer." Vekel critiqued as he walked back to the bar. "It's one thing to say she has the skills of a thief, it's another if she actually uses them."

"Trust me lad, she's definitely going to be trouble if we don't handle her. She had a talk with Mercer today..."

"Yeah, he told us about that, real gutsy she is, but I suppose she did need to tell him right away that she would be leaving. I can't help but wonder why people are after her." Delvin said, sealing the letter with hot wax.

"I don't know either, she just said a heist went bad but she didn't want to talk about it."

"How do we know she was actually a part of that Guild, we have no proof." Vekel stated.

"I can tell, she's too skilled to be a common thief, she said she was a senior member at her Guild, which may explain her commanding arrogance." Brynjolf said as he took a swing of mead. It wasn't that good, but he needed a drink.

"_She's_ a senior member?! She's so young, she looks like she's barely in her twenties!" Delvin exclaimed.

"Aye, but I watched her as she told me, the lass isn't lying. She said her and Gray Fox were close, maybe that's why she got her position." Brynjolf said. "I need advice Delvin, you're always so good with that. How do I rein her in before she gets herself killed in here?"

"Hmm...I'm not sure." Delvin scratched his bald head. "It seems we need to break her, assert authority, but try to keep that fire in her from completely dying out. That fierceness often helps in our line of work. But how we tame a fire without putting it out?"

"...I don't know Delvin."

"We take away things she can burn. We take away a few logs of wood. Those foundations she has that fuels her need to be separated from her, at least until she goes home. But we have to leave her with something, otherwise she'll just be ordinary, we want to make sure she keeps some of her spunk."

"How do I know enough's enough?

"When she stops hating your guts and starts wanting to spend time with you. Whatever she thinks about you now will turn into anger if you're to break her properly."

"Well, we're going to train tonight. I want to see how skilled she is in combat, maybe I could rough her up a little bit." Brynjolf said absently, he was usually serious with the juniors when it came to training, but not downright cruel. He wasn't looking forward to it. Devlin saw his unease.

"You said it first, she needs to be reined in before something bad happens to her."

"You're right. Thank you Delvin." He sighed finished his drink in silence before standing up. "I better go see her now, it's already getting late."

"Remember, it's for her own good." Delvin said and gave Brynjolf a final comforting smile.


	10. Chapter 10: Cliff Racing

Chapter Ten

The sun was just starting to set as Isobel crept into the Riften cemetery. That morning when she asked around for jobs, Devlin told her the stone tomb in the mausoleum had the symbol of a diamond with a circle inside, and if she pushed it, it would reveal a secret entrance directly into the cistern. She just had to make sure absolutely no one was watching. She pushed the button, watching the stone floor underneath her slide away with loud scraping noises, revealing the trap door within. She stepped in, closed the door behind her and descended into the cistern.

She had spent the day scouting the area, exploring streets and houses from as many viewpoints as she could while also venturing out on the docks. She tried to learn as much from the townsfolk as she could, eavesdropping and shadowing them around to watch their habits, all while making sure Brynjolf didn't see her. It turned out the gloomy father and son she saw yesterday at the inn were dealing with the death of a family member, when the son spoke of her he used her first name so she figured it was his sister and not his mother. She also introduced herself to the two guards she met at the gates. Turned out that had deals with the Guild, that they were given pay to look the other way or help any of the members out when needed.

"If I was in any other town, I'd turn down the offer." The female guard, Tabitha, said as she took of her helmet in the afternoon heat. Her face was remarkably pretty, with large hazel eyes and pink lips, and her hair was the color of golden straw. Isobel wandered why anyone that gorgeous was doing a job that consisted of concealing her face all the time. "But in Riften, the Guild and Maven are in charge. Someone finds out I'm in cahoots with the Guild, there's nothing they can do. There's no other city in Skyrim like that."

"Mhm." The second guard grunted as he swung his sword around absent-mindedly.

"Be careful where you swing that thing, Hans!" Tabitha shouted, making him drop his weapon clumsily.

Isobel had stolen a considerable amount of drinks from the Bee and Barb. The male Argonian, Talen-Jei, had told her of his conquests in mixing interesting drinks and decided she would bring some to share with her new comrades. She didn't care what Brynjolf said, she was going to make friends and support her temporary family as best she could... with the exception of Mercer...and Vex if she continued to be as cold as she was that morning.

"There she is!" Called a dark haired man with thick eyebrows as she reached the bottom of the ladder. He was wearing a sleeveless version of the Thieves Guild armor, accompanied with a friendly smile. "You're making waves around here. I like that. They said your name is Isobel, right?"

"That's me. Who amI talking to?"

"Vipir...Vipir the Fleet." He replied. He noticed the bulging bag she held under her arm. "Already been working the streets have you?"

"Yeah, I thought I'd bring drinks for everybody." Isobel said, opening the bag to reveal the bottles inside. Vipir grinned and laughed.

"It's been awhile since we juniors had drinks together, usually if we wanted to get drunk we had to go the Flagon, but it's not that fun when you've got a bunch of serious senior members staring at you." He reached in the bag to examine a bottle. "Cliff Racers?! We _are_ going to have a good time tonight!" He paused and looked at her. "Did you know it was my birthday?"

"No! Happy birthday!" Isobel smiled widely. "I'm really glad I decided to get drinks now!"

"Yeah, me too. It'll be nice having a bit of a celebration. Not just for me, it's rare for us guys to let up a bit and have fun. Hey, Thrynn! Niruin! Isobel's brought us drinks, go find Cynric!" He called out to the muscular man and Wood Elf she saw that morning, they both looked curious and almost confused that the new girl had brought them treats.

"Should I just set these on the table?" Isobel said, pointing to the wooden table across the cistern.

"Yeah, that should have enough room." Vipir said almost skipping. "It's too bad Rune went out to Falkreath this afternoon, you would've like him, all the ladies do."

"I did meet him, he seems really sweet." Isobel said as she pulled bottles out of the bag and brushed the thousands of crumbs off the table. The three other men walked out of the passage leading to the training room and took places at the table, staring at the expensive drinks before them. Isobel became sandwiched between Vipir and the large muscular man, Thrynn. He had sleeveless armor on too, and Isobel felt herself grow nervous when she noticed how his veins stuck out of his thick arms. If he wasn't intimidating to her already, the red war paint he had on his cheeks really topped it off.

"Not even 24 hours ago we were about to gut you, and now you bring us booze. Impressive." A man who kept his hood on said, Isobel thought it had to be Cynric. "I'm starting to think you're gonna be alright."

"Ugh." The Wood Elf, Niruin, coughed. "That stuff's strong, and not near as good at the vintages from my father's winery."

"Hey, Isobel brought this for us so be grateful, it's a lot better than urine Vekel sells!" Crynic retorted and shoved Niruin with his elbow. "Isobel, I'm Cynric. You need any lock picking training you come to me, not Vex. She's good, but the only thing you'll learn from her are new derogatory words instead of actual lock picking."

"Thanks, if anyone wants training with Illusion spells then come to me. That was my specialty in my Guild." Isobel took a sip from her bottle and almost choked. She hadn't expected it to have so much bite, it burned down her throat into her stomach, but the aftertaste kind of reminded her of the brandy back home. The men all looked.

"You're in another Guild? What do you mean?" Vipir asked as his eyes watered from the drink. "What are you doing here?"

"I just got in trouble with a important heist so now I'm waiting here until my boss says it's all clear to go home."

"Yeah, Thrynn and I eavesdropped on that little meeting you had with Mercer. You're quite brave...almost dangerously so." Niruin's slanted elf eyes peered at her under his hood and Isobel felt entranced by them."We overheard that you know Gray Fox? What is he like?" The table all looked at her.

"Well...he's very kind and gentle, even in his wrath he stays grounded. He always put the Guild first, almost to the point where he neglected himself, I had to take care of him so many times when he failed to..." Isobel was starting to daydream, yearning to see his face again. She took another swig of her Cliff Racer. The burning was starting to numb her throat.

"Ooh I know that look!" Vipir twittered. "You're in love with him! You're Gray Fox's lover!"

"Ew, no I-"

"Why in Oblivion would you know that look, Vipir?" Thrynn sneered. "I haven't seen a woman give you the time of day since the day I joined here."

"I've seen that look in a lady's eyes plenty of times!" The men chuckled and rolled their eyes.

"Like in Sapphire?" Niruin grinned, showing his slightly pointier Bosmer teeth. Isobel wondered if he'd ever eaten another elf like she heard some do in Valenwood.

"I have! I swear it!" Vipir said to the men who where now roaring with laugher. Even though Isobel didn't understand what was funny she laughed too.

"Who's this Sapphire lady?" She asked.

"She a fellow thief here, she's out on a job somewhere, but lately Vipir's been making it his life's mission to bed the girl." Thyrnn said. "As if she was even remotely attractive."

"Hey! Don't talk about her like that!"

"Oh, I assume it's alright calling her a stupid cow though?" Thrynn retorted.

"You called her a cow?! No wonder she's not interested!" Isobel laughed, the alcohol was drifting in her veins now and she felt her body loosen.

"As if you're good with women, Thrynn." Vipir yelled back.

"Yeah, Thrynn, you used to be a bandit." Cynric piped up, sloshing the liquid in his bottle around. "Is it true what I hear about how bandits get... you know,_ real_ friendly with the wildlife?"

"Fuck off Cynric. At least I sleep_ some_ women, you celibate prick." Thrynn growled. Isobel almost got up and switched to the other side of the table upon hearing he was a bandit, but her still somewhat clear-thinking mind told her that would raise suspicion in him. Instead she scooted over the bench a little so their arms weren't touching.

"You guys shouldn't talk about women such way in front of a lady." Niruin nodded to Isobel, reminding the men of her presence.

"What you think I'm sensitive about sex?" She slurred. "I bet I've slept with more men than all you combined!"

"Well, none of us have slept with men, so you're probably right." Cynric was starting to crack up, his laughter didn't match his handsome appearance, it reminded Isobel of a gasping donkey.

"You've had sex?" Vipir blurted. "What're you? Twelve?"

"I'm twenty-one!" Isobel shouted back. Their voices were definitely starting to get louder. "I lost my virginity to a Khajiit when I was fifteen!"

"A Khajiit? Isn't that bestiality?" Vipir said before receiving a sharp slap from Niruin.

"I've never had Khajiit, what're they like?" Thrynn asked curiously.

"Well, their fur is very soft and warm, and their claws are good if you like a little pain with your pleasure. Their mouths are awkward for kissing, but they make up for it in other places." Isobel said and bit her lip.

"Yeah, I don't think I want a Khajiit going down on me." Cyrnic continued hee-hawing.

"Well, if you start missing your Gray Fox some night, just let me know." Vipir said and shoved his tongue between two fingers. Isobel wasn't the type to be offended by such things even while sober and burst into laughter.

* * *

It was an hour later when Brynjolf entered the cistern, and he was met with the sound a rowdy bunch of men. At the wooden table he saw all of the members that weren't out on jobs, Thrynn, Cynric, Vipir and Niruin, drunk and singing a painfully off-key version of Tale of the Tongues. And of course, Isobel was in the middle of it all. He sighed, exhausted, and walked over to the table. Isobel spotted him first.

"Bryn!" She called, all bitterness towards him that morning had apparently vanished. "Did you know it's Vipir's birthday! How could you not know? You live with him!"

"Bryn! Did you know Issy lost her virginity to a Khajiit when she was 15!" Vipir stated ten times louder than he needed to. Isobel punched him in the arm.

"Not in front of boss!" As the men snickered.

"I thought we were going to train tonight." He said, standing at the head of the table with his arms crossed.

"It's his birthday! C'mon, have a drink! I nicked some special stuff from the Bee and Barb-"

"_I thought we were going to train tonight_." He repeated. The men started to quieten, Isobel tried to keep her smile as best she could.

"Bryn, I-"

"Don't call me Bryn." He hated being the one to break up the fun, but he knew if he was to keep Isobel from her own demise he needed to break her. "Meet me in the training room. _Now_." Silently she got up, the men sat all droopy eyed and solemn. She had to balance herself on the filthy walls as she stumbled into the training room.

"Now, what are your go-to weapons? The ones you are the strongest at?" Brynjolf said, pulling up the sleeves of his orange shirt and stretching his neck.

"Illusion spells and daggers." She said, trying not to hiccup.

"Spells? I suppose those could be useful. What about archery?"

"I can do it if I need to but usually I just..." But the rest of her sentence was inaudible mumbling.

"Okay," Brynjolf said, bringing out his own dagger. "I assume you know how to spare?"

"Mhm, but I can hardly stand, I don't want to hurt-"

"Stop. Just fight." Brynjolf snapped. Isobel pulled her dagger out and lunged, but Brynjolf leisurely stepped out of the way and kicked her down. With a stalled reflex she rolled onto her back and sprang up, landing on her feet. However, her leftover momentum caused her to stumble over again.

"Why are we doing this now?" She slurred, finally standing up only to have Brynjolf push her down again.

"Because if you make it a habit to get piss drunk you'll need to be able to fight in case of emergency." He said, lifting her up. "Now, show me what you claim you can do." Isobel faked a stab to the left before spinning to the right only to have Brynjolf grab her wrist and squeeze. Breathing through clenched teeth she clasped the blade, only to drop it with a gasp as his grip tightened. "Now try again."

She fell over trying to pick up her dagger. "What the fuck is wrong with you!?"

"Maul came to me today, he said you own him something. What're you going to do when he corners you in some deserted dark alley?" Isobel managed to try to stab his leg as she wavered on the floor, but he kicked out his foot and sent her dagger flying across the room. Isobel stood up.

"Show me lass, how someone like _you_ became a senior mem-" But Brynjolf was met with a solid punch in the jaw. He was suddenly so overcome with terror he fell to his knees and began to shake and pull at his hair. He felt he needed to run, to escape, but his legs wouldn't move, his heart was beating out of his chest, he felt like he couldn't breathe. He couldn't tell if he was whimpering but it was entirely possible, he couldn't hear himself over the sound of hacking steel into wet flesh and children screaming. Time seemed to stop and he was almost to the point on screaming himself when he felt a hand on his shoulder and the feeling of fear was gone. He looked up to see a crying Isobel leaning over him.

"I'm so sorry!" She sobbed. "I shouldn't-I should never have done that. I'm so sorry!"

"It's okay, lass." He said, pulling her shaking body into his arms. Surprisingly he was completely at peace, the most relaxed he was all day. "You did nothing wrong, you were showing me how you fight." He stroked her hair as she cried into his chest, he buried his face into her neck. She smelled like alcohol and leather for sure, but there was the slightest and most peculiar scent of cream in her skin. Brynjolf sighed contentedly. Both of them were sitting on the floor, rocking and embracing for several minutes before Brynjolf suddenly pushed her away harshly and stood up. He was speechless, and didn't know how to react.

"What did you do?" He muttered in shock, Isobel was struggling to focus as she looked at him with an arched brow. "What did you do to me?" He repeated more angrily.

"I'm sorry Bryn! Please, I won't do it-." And with that she threw up on the stone floor. "Ugh, Cliff Racers hurt even more coming up." She coughed, wiping her mouth, before passing out. Brynjolf stormed out of the room.

_'Let her wake up in her own vomit._' He cursed as he rubbed his sore jaw. He felt beyond rage at the fact that he was just cuddling with one of his understudies. He saw the table of men stare curiously at him with somber expressions, but Cynric looking like he was trying to hold in giggles. Brynjolf exited through the secret door in a huff. He was going to sleep at the Inn.


	11. Chapter 11: Patience is a Thief's Virtue

**A/N: Huzzah for boring chapters that are needed for plot development!**

**In all seriousness, thanks to those for the reviews. Even though there are only a few, seeing them definitely helps push me to continue writing when I know that at least some people are reading. So thanks! :)**

Chapter Eleven

"Pull more with your back, not your arms."

Isobel raised the bow and aimed at the mannequin across the room, cheek to cheek with Niruin who was trying to see if she was aiming properly. She fired, the arrow hitting the second ring of the bulls eye.

It had been two weeks already since she joined the Guild, and they were painful. Brynjolf was preventing her from doing any jobs that weren't inside Riften, and she was getting cabin fever being stuck within the city walls. If Brynjolf wasn't belittling and deprecating her every chance he got and was miraculously given a job, it was either extorting coin from those in debt with the Guild or burglary jobs in the dullest of houses with nothing but pots, pans, and a couple coins.

"Alright, that's a little better." Niruin said unconvincingly.

She at least wasn't so lonely, she was becoming good friends with Vipir, Rune, Cynric and Niruin, and at least one of them was at the Guild if the others were gone on a job, so she always had somebody to eat meals or go for walks with. Little by little they started opening up to each other, she knew how Vipir got his nickname, why Niruin left Valenwood, what Cynric did before he joined the Guild, and she told them of how she ended up with her Guild.

"C'mon. It would've killed the guy." Isobel said exasperatedly.

"If that was a live man charging at us I wouldn't complain, but the point is you didn't hit what you were aiming for."

She also met the rest of the members who weren't there on her first few days. The shy Etienne, who spend most of his time reading books, and the venomous Sapphire. Isobel wasn't sure what was with the women within the Guild, and why they were so much more belligerent than the men, even Tonilia was starting to give her dirty looks for some reason. Isobel was caught between trying to win their affections and build trust with them, knowing it would be in her best interest, but her pride wanted to spite and intimidate them.

"Niruin." Vex strolled into the training room, the acoustics on the wet stone walls made her voice sound crisper. "I think we have a nice wealthy home for you to break into. Think you can clear the place of valuables and keep it quiet?"

"I'll see what I can do." Niruin said, continuing to straighten Isobel's bow arm as the two women glared at each other.

"Helping Brynjolf's runt are you? Just make sure her arrows fly and not her mouth." Vex sneered, she was a full head taller than Isobel. "I wouldn't want her to hurt herself. " Isobel had no idea why Vex was the way she was, they never spoke or crossed paths yet they hissed and clawed silently at each other like cats.

_'How can she imply me having a loud mouth when we never speak?' _Isobel fumed.

"Come meet me in the Flagon right away." Vex commanded briskly before taking off. Isobel drew an arrow and made it follow the blonde head out of the room.

"Don't even joke about that." Niruin said and pulled her bow back. "She's like that with everyone."

"I didn't hear her insult _you_ just now. And she refuses to-"

"Shush, hit that mannequin with one more arrow and I need to go." And with that Niruin slowly stepped back, letting Isobel take full control of her shot. Isobel took a deep breath, pulled the arrow back and aimed at the targets head, imagining it's white-blonde hair, and fired. Niruin registered the bulls eye sooner than Isobel and started a steady slow clap. "Maybe I should have Vex sit in on our little lessons, might give you that grit you rely on so much and give Vexy and I a little time together."

"Ew, don't tell me you have a crush on her too!" Isobel frowned as she walked over and pulled the arrows wedged in the mannequin.

"Don't get too jealous Issy, I'd always choose your company over hers." And with an elfish grin he exited the room. Those final words echoed in Isobel's ears, making her smile.

_'At least I'm doing something right._'

After putting away her bow and arrows she started her own exercises, she was getting good combat practice with Brynjolf but needed to keep her strength and flexibility up if she wanted to stay in shape. At her old Guild, Isobel was involved with exercises that pushed both physical and mental limits, but the only skill this Guild pushed was her patience. She started easing down into center facing splits and pressing her stomach flat against the floor. Her elasticity had helped her twist out of situations more than once, and she wasn't going to lose it by twiddling her thumbs in a sewer. She continued contorting herself for several minutes before positioning herself in a handstand for push ups.

She admired the room from her upside-down point of view as she slowly pumped her arms up and down, and started a bit when Sapphire entered the room. Standing upright Isobel turned to see if there was any possible way to start a conversation with the Nord woman. She had chestnut hair and eyes the color of her name, she wasn't bad looking, but her appearance would've been enhanced a lot more if it wasn't for the permanent scowl on her face. Isobel started to open her mouth but the woman cut her off.

"I have nothing to say to you, so get out of my face." Sapphire hissed as she brought out two swords and started to practice dual-wielding the two blades. Swords were always so heavy for Isobel, but when Sapphire handled them in her strong Nord hands they looked like feathers.

"Gladly." Isobel scoffed as she sauntered out of the room, hands in her pockets. When she entered the cistern she was met with Mercer's icy stare from his desk. Isobel met them firmly, nodding her head in recognition before bumping into Delvin's chest.

"Watch yourself girl, Hans told me you did the same thing to him when you approached the Riften gates the first time." He said with a coy little smile.

"You know Hans? I mean, I know him and Tabitha have a deal going on with the Guild but you're the one they speak to?" Isobel said, trying to shake off her embarrassment.

"Aye, I see them once a week to give 'em their pay. Might not be able to keep even that up with the way things are goin' on 'round here." Delvin sighed. "Come, have a drink with me in the Flagon."

"It's 10 o'clock in the morning."

"Well, just order tea then. C'mon."

"But I might be training Etienne when he comes back."

"He'd only be in Shor's Stone by now, he'll be back a little bit."Delvin led her out the cistern and down the hall to the tavern. Isobel was not looking forward to going inside, and was mildly pissed at Delvin for dragging her along. But when they entered, only Vekel and Dirge were in sight, and Tonilia far off on her porch. "See, it's not so bad in here. You're obviously just havin' a wee bit of a hard time in this place. Sit." She sat down at the nearest table as Delvin poured her a tankard of wine. Unable to resist despite her previous objection to drinking in the morning, she accepted the cup. Once he handed it to her he raised his own. "For the Guild." He toasted.

"For the Guild." She answered and they drank. Isobel felt kind of weird, the chair she sat in was Brynjolf's usual chair and she felt like she was intruding on his territory.

"So, makin' any new friends, hm?" Devlin asked as he placed down his drink.

"Brynjolf said this place isn't about making friends." Isobel muttered.

"Ah, well, he's a little bit dodgy when it comes to that stuff." Devlin said and brushed his hand. Even though his voice was somewhat brash and roguish it made Isobel relax, she felt like she finally going to have a chat with a senior member that wasn't going to chew her out.

"Why?" She asked, hoping Delvin had an answer as to why Brynjolf had switched from her biggest fan to her biggest challenge.

"He along with the rest of us are too busy tryin' to make ends meet to concern ourselves with bein' friendly."

"But you're being friendly right now."

"Oh? Smart one, are ya?" He said as he raised his eyebrows at her from above his cup as he drank. "As it turns out I am tryin' to make an end meet."

"What do you mean?" Isobel caught Vekel staring at her and he sharply turned back to wiping the bar counter.

"I mean I know Brynjolf hasn't been givin' you jobs lately..." Delvin started.

"Do you have the faintest idea why?" Isobel said angrily. "I don't understand. I could get him the Jarl's crown if he asked and he won't even let me pickpocket a gods damned old woman."

"I'm sure he has his reasons, he's the most reliable man here and one of the only reasons this place hasn't completely gone under." Delvin said as he gestured around the room. "Look around you. The Flagon, the Guild... it's all fallin' apart. A few decades ago, this place was as busy as your Imperial City. The Guild used to have a foothold in every major city in Skyrim. You wouldn't dare even lift an apple without checkin' with us. When things started goin' downhill around here, it became difficult to keep it all together. We lost fences, influential contacts and coin. It wasn't long before we lost what we depend on to survive... respect. Now, you're lucky if you don't trip over a skeever instead."

"What actually happened here? Brynjolf just says it's bad luck, but is that really all it is?"

"Look, I know the others think I'm a bit daft for sayin' stuff like this, but I'm gonna give it to you straight. Somethin' out there is piss-drunk mad at us. I don't know who or what it is, but it's beyond just you and me. We've been cursed." Isobel tried not to roll her eyes. Of course, there was always someone who thought the answer to the unknown was something to do with a celestial being, as if that was what you _had_ to do when you couldn't explain something. Delvin saw her skepticism. "You're not the only one to doubt me, but I stand by my word. And I'll even tell you what we do. We spit in that curse's face and turn things around down here. Put things back the way they were."

Isobel crossed her arms on the table. "I could do so much for your Guild Delvin, and I want to, I truly want to. You've got some great boys in that cistern of yours, and I'm not one to leech off people's hospitality. Let me work my magic."

"I know you do girl, I know you want to help. But I don't have authority over Brynjolf, and I'm not one to lie behind a friend and ally's back and give you jobs without his permission. But I need to clear this up with you." Delvin paused to make sure she was listening. "Patience is one of the most valuable skills a thief can have, and one of the most underrated. A thief who cannot wait for the best opportune time to strike will fail, whether he's pickin' a pocket, pickin' a lock, or shadowin' a foe. You treat this place like every other job in your past, and things would start going better for both you and everyone else."

Isobel thought about this. She knew he had a point, but she wasn't sure if she could not react to those who pushed her, especially Brynjolf. To her simply ignoring such slanders was a sign of weakness and wasn't going to get her the respect she wanted, therefore she felt she had to push back. But if what Delvin was saying was true, that if Isobel was to accept what the Guild had been throwing at her then take them by surprise she would slowly start to move up.

"No." She finally said. "No. That's not me." Delvin looked confused. "Working in a Guild shouldn't be like picking a pocket, only those who crave power will sneak around and strike when it's beneficial to them. What I want is respect, and I'm not going to gain that by waiting and doing nothing." Delvin looked impressed.

"I see, but Skyrim respected us when we struck 'em from the shadows, when we waited and planned and hit 'em where it hurt, they gave us respect then. Who says you can't do the same?"

"Do you hear yourself, Delvin? You're making it sound as if the Guild is a target." Isobel said angrily, but Delvin just smiled.

"You may survive us yet, Isobel." He sighed contently, Isobel obviously grew confused, but before she could ask him to elaborate she felt someone behind her chair. She didn't see or hear them but she knew who it was.

"Hello lass."

"Hey."

"Talking with Delvin are you?" Brynjolf said as he pulled a seat from another table and sat on it backwards, leaning with his arms crossed over the back of the chair as he faced the table. "And drinking already?" He reached out for her tankard to take it away before receiving a sharp slap on the hand.

"Mine." Isobel snapped as Brynjolf retreated. Delvin tried to suppress a chuckle but failed.

"We were just chit chatting' about the predicament the Guild's in and so forth. Isobel thinks she can fix the damn place."

"I never said that! I said I just wanted to help!"

"Ah, did he tell you his "something is piss-drunk mad at us" theory?" Brynjolf said with a boyish grin. Isobel felt like punching him in his smiling teeth, of course someone sly like him would bully her when no one was looking, and be all charming with folks around.

"Yes." Isobel replied returning the smile, making sure Brynjolf saw no signs of discomposure. "I don't believe it, but then again I don't do enough work around here to have any experiences with bad luck curses, so for all I know you could just be very shitty thieves." She said sweetly directly to Brynjolf, trying to push his buttons in front of Delvin.

"Aye lass. Maybe we need the help of Gray Fox's exiled bounty dodger." Isobel almost boiled over at his words, and the playful tone in which Brynjolf said them  
and his sheepish face made her even madder.

"Oi you two, break it up." Delvin said as he kicked Brynjolf under the table. "Brynjolf, you had a meeting with Mercer this morning, what'd he say? Anything about how to get out of this mess?"

"Mercer is being Mercer. If he has a plan to get us out of this rut, then he isn't sharing it with me." Brynjolf said with a sigh. "We had to make some more cuts again, as of today I'm no longer going to be at the market stand."

"He's closin' you down?" Delvin said, a little taken aback. Isobel could've guessed it though, one can only sell fraud merchandise for a while before people catch on and business stops.

"Aye, we might sell or rent out the stall if anybody wants it, but it wasn't bringing enough coin to be worth it." Brynjolf shrugged, Isobel could tell he was disappointed, that he felt like a failure, and she reveled in it.

"What're you gonna do now? Has he given you any work?" Delvin asked.

"He has something in mind, he just needs to get things set up. From the way he was talking it sounds like I'm going to be spending more time in the cistern." Brynjolf said trying to smile.

"Wow, it sounds awful being stuck underground with nothing to do." Isobel said with as much sarcasm as she could possibly muster. Brynjolf's charming facade finally broke as he gave her a cold stare.


	12. Chapter 12: Blood on her Hands

**A/N: Sorry, this chapter is kinda boring. I've written the next several chapters already and there's still a lot of stuff I need to develop if the future of Isobel is going to have any impact on readers. I'm so sorry! **

Chapter Twelve

Isobel put her pick inside the window's padlock, but it snapped before she even began turning. So she put another pick inside, but it also snapped. So she put another pick inside, but it also snapped. So she put another pick inside, but it also snapped. So she put another pick inside, but it also snapped.

"Hurry, Isobel!" The voice called from behind her. "They're coming, we need to go!"

Isobel resorted to slamming her fist into the window pane, but it didn't break. She put all her body weight into her punch, but the glass remained intact. She put all her body weight into her punch, but the glass remained intact. She put all her body weight into her punch, but the glass remained intact. She put all her body weight into her punch, but the glass remained intact.

"Go! Go! Go! Go!" The voice behind her screamed. The window broke with tiny shards of glass like glitter that flew into the night sky like a puff of smoke. Isobel leaped onto the ledge, staring at the ground that was leagues beneath her, knowing she had to jump. She turned and held out her hand. She turned and held out her hand. She turned and held out her hand. A young girl with auburn hair reached out, her face opened in a silent scream. As their hands grasped each other Isobel braced for the jump. Mid-leap, nothing separating her from the earth below, her stomach starting to drop as she fell in slow-motion, she felt a tug on her hand and looked to see the auburn haired girl. She felt a tug on her hand and looked to see the auburn haired girl. She felt a tug on her hand and looked to see the auburn haired girl with a Penitus Oculatus agent behind her.

With a thrust he shoved his sword through the base of her auburn head, the tip of the blade exiting through her mouth like a long metallic tongue as she stared, pouring her blood onto Isobel. Pouring her blood onto Isobel. Pouring her blood onto Isobel. Pouring her blood onto Isobel. Pouring her blood onto Isobel. Pouring her blood onto Isobel as she screamed.

"Get up, lass."

And Isobel cried out, thrashing and punching the air. Still half-asleep she felt her wet face and shrieked loudly, her eyes flying open with fear. She was staring at the cistern's mossy stone ceiling. Still shaking she looked and saw Brynjolf sitting on the edge of her bed with an empty tankard, staring at her in shock that she would react so heavily from having water poured on her.

Isobel wiped her face and looked at her hands, no blood, just water. She must've fallen asleep after supper, maybe it was the soup that made her sluggish and in want of a nap. Gulping she tried to compose herself, but seeing that Etienne, Vipir, Thyrnn, Sapphire and Mercer were all staring at her from various points in the room made it harder for her not to shake.

"Are you alright?" Brynjolf asked, still frowning at her spectacle.

"Yes!" Isobel blurted defensively. "What the fuck do you want?" He seemed to look at her a moment longer, thinking hard.

"I want to see you in the training room. So get up, get ready and meet me there." He said with a sigh, and with that he stood up and left her, shaking not in fear, but in anger. She still felt the blood on her hands.

* * *

Niruin and Thrynn were sitting on some chest s behind the large, round bulls eye targets used for archery practice, watching the show before them. Isobel and Brynn had a session of beating the shit out of each other almost evening, and watching them spar had become a sort of entertainment for the boys.

"She's bloody good." Niruin muttered.

"Aye." Thrynn responded. Both Isobel and Brynjolf were brilliantly skilled at fighting with daggers, watching them move throughout each other bearing blades was almost poetry. Thrynn just couldn't help but wonder why Brynjolf was acting the way he was towards her, even if she won he somehow twisted her victory into a way that nullified it, and it seemed totally out of his character. They weren't even practicing with the usual wooden daggers, but actual weapons.

"What'd I miss?" Vipir said as he sat beside Thrynn with a wooden bowl of nuts.

"This isn't the blasted theatre Vipir, why are you eating?" Niruin hissed.

"I'm hungry!" Vipir pleaded.

"Shh, look." Thrynn pointed. Isobel had somehow launched Brynjolf's blade into the air and kicked him to the ground before catching the falling dagger by its hilt and pointing it at Brynjolf's chin.

"Wait, where's her dagger? Was she disarmed?" Vipir started.

"She must've. Watch, Brynjolf will make up some bull shit excuse about how her technique was wrong." The three stared intently.

"Impressive, lass. But while that dagger was in flight your focus strayed from your enemy." And with that he brandished a hidden stiletto from his sleeve and slit her weapon hand, making her yelp as her blood dripped from his blade.

"And look, she still didn't drop her weapon." Thrynn said. "What's with Brynjolf and her?"

"Maybe he likes it. Maybe it gets him off." Vipir whispered.

"Is your head ever out of the gutter, boy?" Niruin snapped. Vipir responded with a charming smile as his teeth cracked an almond. They fell silent again as Isobel and Brynjolf readied themselves for another fight. It was Isobel who started, and the two commenced into battle. Both were equal when it came to being agile and fluid, and Thrynn was mesmerized just watching their dancing feet.

His trance was broken by a sudden steel blade penetrating the target in front of them, and they all jumped and covered their heads. Brynjolf had thrown a small knife at Isobel before pulling out another one from his belt and charging at her.

"Actually, Vipir may be right. Usually by now Brynjolf would've bedded the new girl."

"But Brynjolf always liked actual ladies, not hard-asses like Isobel." Thrynn said, thinking hard.

"He's had Vex and Tonilia before, and they are far from ladies. Pretty sure Sapphire would've fallen for him too if she wasn't so anti-men." Niruin shrugged.

They watched Isobel do an aerial cartwheel off the row of food barrels she was running across as Brynjolf swung his blade at her with a grunt. The two were making full use of the room, flying around it and never staying in one place for too long as sweat dripped from their chins and plastered their hair.

"How does she do all those fancy moves?" Thrynn asked.

"Don't you know? She was raised in an..." But Niruin trailed off, realizing that she hadn't told whatever secret she had to Thrynn.

"What? She was raised what?" He pressed.

"It's nothing special, she just learned it on her own." Vipir blurted quickly. Apparently Vipir was in on her secret too. Thrynn felt a pang of jealousy at the two, and how Isobel was able to confide in them and not him. He knew she avoided him when she could, and when they were in a group of people she simply tolerated him, but he had no idea as to why, and it upset him. He had grown to respect her the way the rest of the boys did and wanted her to show him the same level of affection she had towards everyone else.

Slightly frowning he turned back to the duel, Brynjolf had tried to kick Isobel's feet from under her, and as she jumped bringing her knees up to her chest he shoved his shoulder into her, knocking her to the ground with a heavy _thump_. He dropped his stiletto on the ground near head.

"We'll pick up again tomorrow." He shouted back as he exited. The room was silent save to the steady dripping from some unknown source and Isobel's heavy panting.

"Do you guys really need to watch this?" Isobel called out after she caught her breath. Niruin and Vipir slowly crawled out from their seats and went over to her. Thrynn lagged behind, watching them lift her to her feet as he pulled the steel dagger out from the practice target. Thankfully it was rather dull, if he had found it freshly sharpened he would've confronted Brynjolf himself.

"He's completely off his nuts, Issy. Don't let him get you down, c'mon you fruitcake." Vipir coaxed, trying to make Isobel smile.

"Please don't patronize me." She muttered, obviously exhausted.

"Stop it Isobel." Niruin scolded. "A lot of people are impressed with you down here. Me included, and that's saying a lot."

"Oh, you mean like Brynjolf, Vex, Tonilia, Sapphire and Mercer? Yeah, I'm real popular down here." Isobel scoffed.

"The only opinion that matters is your own, Isobel." Thrynn said, Isobel's head snapped up to him as if she didn't know he was there. "Remember who you are, and they can't break you." Isobel stared at him a second longer before speeding out of the training room, leaving the three men behind.

"It's gonna be a shame when she goes." Niruin said. "But it's a bigger shame now that her skills aren't being put to better use while she's here."

"Aye." Thrynn agreed sadly.


	13. Chapter 13: Dragon on Lake Honrich

Chapter Thirteen

"Oh, there once was a hero name Ragnar the Red who came riding to Whiterun from ol' Rorikstead!"

They were halfway between Riften and the Goldenglow bee farm, and Vipir and Isobel were singing so loudly on the banks of Lake Honrich the labors at the Riften docks were smiling. However, Rune was less than amused.

"Shut up! That's the twelfth time you've sung that song in a row!"

"And the braggart did swagger and brandish his blade as he told of bold battles and gold he had made!" The two sang even louder, prancing and frolicking around the unenthusiastic Rune with animated faces. "But then he went quiet, did Ragnar the Red, when he met the shield-maiden Matilda that said..."

"I'm never going on walks with you two again, all you do is talk about filth and sing the most horrible of bard songs!"

"'Oh you talk and you lie and you drink all our mead! Now I think it's high time that you lie down and bleeeeeeed!'"

"SHUT UP!"

"Well, would you rather us sing or talk about dirty things?" Vipir said in a sing-song voice and skipped beside Rune. Isobel enjoyed messing around with Vipir, he was the only one she felt she could go wild with, and in the oppressing and pressured environment of the Guild she needed that release.

"Whatever you do, do it quietly, I'm getting a headache." Rune pouted.

"Ever hear of the placebo effect?" Vipir leaned across from Rune and whispered to Isobel.

"No, what is it?" Isobel whispered back.

"The Bunkhouse owner, Haelga, is a devout follower of Dibella, and she expresses her religion by bedding as many men as she can. The woman's insatiable." Vipir grinned.

"I thought Dibella was more about beauty and art." Isobel muttered.

"Well, I guess some people consider fucking an art."

"Okay! That's it! I thought I could handle it but I couldn't! I'll walk ahead of you guys so you can be perverted in peace." Rune said as he lifted up his hands and sped up the lake's shore. Isobel couldn't help but snicker at his agitation.

"Anyway," Vipir continued. "A lot of men in Riften have taken a go at her, a few of the women too, and of course, being the holy man that I am, I go over there once in a while to help with her worship."

"I've seen her I think, she's that blonde woman right? She's always hanging around that fisherman, Bolli." Isobel kicked at the stony banks. Vipir laughed.

"Um, yeah. He's been seeing Haelga a lot lately after he's found out about his wife cheating on him. He actually hired me to shadow her around to find out who she was with, but I was the one fucking her!"

"Vipir!" Isobel scolded with a smile, punching him in the arm.

"Anyway, Haelga's quite good in bed, but one day I gave her one of those FalmerBlood Elixirs that Brynjolf was selling at the time and told her it had the power to make her make love like a sabre cat. As you may know, that elixir is just liquefied fish guts that an anonymous fisher has agreed to supply, but when I made her drink it believing it would increase her performance, even though it did nothing, she made love even more wildly that night than ever. She claimed she felt the elixir work, she believed what I gave her was genuine."

"I guess that's like how some people feel drunk even if what they're drinking isn't alcoholic when they think it is." Isobel said, impressed by Vipir's discovery.

"Exactly!"

"You didn't mind kissing someone who just chugged fish guts?"

"I've put my mouth in worse places."

"You're awful!" Isobel laughed.

"Yeah, as if you're innocent." Vipir said shoving her with his elbow. "Who was the last guy you laid? Gray Fox?"

"It was just a one night stand with a guy I met at a tavern back in Cyrodiil. It wasn't anything spectacular, he wasn't even that good." Isobel shrugged. That had been three months ago, and she noticed how she was starting to feel more sexually frustrated lately. She had never went that long without bedding someone since she became sexually active in her teens. "And for the record, I'm not Gray Fox's lover."

"Bummer. I guess the good thing about being a thief is that you travel a lot, so you can bed someone for one night easily and move on. Ladies love bad boys too, we tend to be more mysterious and adept in the ways of speech craft."

"I know how to court lovers, Vipir. And except not all of you get to travel around." Isobel muttered.

"Aw, poor muffin." Vipir cooed in a baby voice. "I bet you could still find someone in Riften that would take you. You're pretty enough. I'm just surprised Brynjolf hasn't slept with you yet."

"What?!" Isobel shouted and choked on her saliva, bordering on offended that Vipir would even say such a thing about her and her worst nightmare.

"Relax Issy, relax!" Vipir snickered. "I'm just saying you two have been spending a lot of time together, and he's always the type to have ladies flock to him. I think he slowed down a few years ago when he was restricted to selling fraud merchandise, but before then he almost always had a lady friend, sometimes several at a time." Isobel found it hard taking this new information in. It was hard imagining someone so square and harsh engaging in something as unprofessional as casual sex. But she'd never deny calling him handsome though, he was good-looking, maybe that was why women would succumb to him without knowing his true personality. "He's got that charm and slyness he can turn on like a switch if he wants something, and I'm just wondering why he hasn't made advances towards you."

"You better stop talking or I'll rip your tongue out through your teeth. Brynjolf has been a complete prick to me ever since I was initiated, and I'll be damned if I ever sleep with someone who spits on my dignity so freely."

"Yeah, famous last words." Vipir grinned and ran off.

"You get back here, you cock sucker!" Isobel chased after him and jumped on his back, putting his neck in a choke hold as they laughed like children. Their fun was cut short by a eerie echo that rolled off the lake. Isobel knew that sound and her stomach dropped. Turning around she saw the unmistakable figure of a dragon soaring on unfurled wings above the waters. Her heart almost burst out of her chest as she recalled narrowly escaping her first dragon.

"Run." She hissed and Vipir took off in a sprint with her still on his back. However, she heard the beating of the monsters wings behind them and it's exhale before Vipir nearly ran into a stream of fire emitting out of the flying beast's mouth and dodged into the autumn tress. They could hear the distant shouting of men from the Hold and the nearby farm, followed by another chilling roar as Vipir continued to weave throughout the brush, living up to his nickname.

"We're going to face this thing together, right?" He shouted back at her.

"Fuck yeah!" Even though her instincts were yelling at her to engage in flight and not fight, she knew that Rune was out there somewhere, and she'd never live with herself if he died while she fled. Suddenly the trees about fifty feet in front of them collapsed with snapping trunks and rustling leaves, the dragon had landed and was facing right at them. Vipir skidded and dove behind a fallen log as a wave of flame pulsed over their heads, setting the dry bark of their hiding spot on fire. Isobel had let go and saw that Vipir's face was sweaty and streaked with dirt and cuts from sprinting through twigs and branches, and they were both breathing heavily. Taking a moment to cast one more glance at each other with panicked eyes, they took off from behind the log.

Upon nearing, Isobel saw that they were closer to Riften than she thought, and that guards were already approaching the beast before she did, directing its attention to them and not her and Vipir. She could see the fire glow beneath its scales and flow through its chest and up its throat before the inferno flooded through jagged teeth. She heard the screaming of men on fire and she pushed forward with her elven dagger drawn, approaching the giant from behind to strike.

She ran and pounced on the base of the dragon's tail, and used the razor sharp scales on its spine to pull herself up. The monsters hide was tough and her dagger did little effect other than cause the dragon to buck from underneath her, her hands bleeding from gripping its scales. She thought of the walk she was just peacefully enjoying with Rune and Vipir and tried channelling it into her hands, but the dragon was either too powerful for magic or her concentration not focused enough.

Isobel looked and saw a little under a dozen guards slashing at the beast's wings and firing arrows into its face, but nothing could penetrate the dragons skull. She couldn't see Vipir or Rune and grew worried, but decided to move forth towards the thing's head, knowing eyes were a weak spot for almost every creature. It took every inch of her physical and mental strength to hang onto its back, but she had trained for intense situations like these and pushed herself to the point of her almost crying.

Isobel was at the base of the dragons neck when she heard the blood curdling scream of a man mortally wounded, and felt the intense heat in the dragons throat, even through its thick flesh, as it sent forth another string of flames. She saw Rune look at her from a short distance away, he was bleeding heavily from a gash on his head and she almost flew off her perch to rush to his aid, but her new found panic and desperation caused her to flee up the dragons neck at record speed. Barely hanging on, she yelled and drove her dagger up to the hilt into the beast's green, snake-like eye.

The monster screamed in agony and fury as Isobel tried to hold on but its might threw her off, and as she hit the ground she heard and felt the unmistakable snap of a broken wrist. Crying out in pain she felt herself suddenly engulfed in shadows as the dragon's head blocked out the sun above her. She looked up just in time to see the dragon's open mouth a few meters in front of her before the life left its remaining eye and it collapsed, its massive head crushing the earth where her feet used to be had she not shuffled away. Isobel saw a Riften guard trying to pull his sword out from the bleeding chest of the monster but it was wedged too deep, he must've pierced it straight through the heart.

Everyone looked and stared at the beast, expecting it to come back to life at any second. Almost a full minute passed before Isobel felt Rune rush to her side.

"Isobel, are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"My wrist is broken." She said, wiping the blood from Rune's eyes. "Come here." She ran her fingers through his hair to find his gash, he grimaced as she found it and she placed her hand firmly on his deep wound, closing her eyes. She could feel Rune relax more as his pain faded, when she felt the cut stop bleeding she retreated her gory hand. She knew it would still be sore and need further healing but she didn't want to exhaust herself of magicka completely just yet. Isobel suddenly had a sharp pain in her side and felt her leather armor getting wet, she had been stabbed, probably by one of the dragons spine scales as it bucked her around. She hadn't even noticed, but she had more important things on her mind. "Where's Vipir?"

The two scanned the scene before them. Guards limping to aid each other in the scorched earth, grass and branches still smoldering in some areas and the air hazy and gray with smoke. She could see only one dead man lying at the base of a tree, his body nearly in two as his intestines flowed over himself and into the bloody dirt.

"Where's Vipir?" She said more urgently. She stood up and winced as she bent over in pain, clutching her stab wound and holding her broken wrist close to her. Regardless, she ran to the other side of the dragon, Rune behind her. They still couldn't see him. "VIPER!" Isobel cried, starting to panic_. 'He couldn't have run away, there was no way he'd do that...would he?'_

Rune grabbed her shoulder and pointed to a pair of guards dragging a man out of the bush by his feet, his body completely limp. Isobel couldn't even scream as she ran to the guards and pushed them away before falling to her knees over her unconscious friend. Her eyes flew over him for any signs of life, but she couldn't see any.

"No no no no no no." She chattered to herself as she started to undo Vipir's shirt with one hand, unbuckling his straps and belts. Rune was beside her, his blood-clotted hair in his face as he supported Vipir's head. Isobel opened up his top to see almost his entire chest was bruised, all discolored and dented like a battle ground. "Fuck."Tears were starting to flow down her cheeks. With clenched teeth and a yelp she slammed her injured hand against Vipir's bare torso, placing her other hand on him as well, and closed her watery eyes in a last minute attempt to revive any life Vipir possibly had in him. She felt the light in her palms even though she couldn't see it, and willed every fibre of herself into fueling that light. Minutes seemed to pass, but Isobel couldn't tell, she was starting to hear Rune sniffling. Suddenly the chest beneath her began to spasm, followed by the beautiful sound of lungs gulping back air.


	14. Chapter 14: The Aftermath

**A/N: Okay, so I've decided that I'm going to upload a chapter every Thursday from now on. I think that will be a good way to pace the story and give me a deadline so I don't slack off from writing. :P**

**I just thought I'd update this now since it's just a short filler, but the next chapter coming this Thursday is a alot more intense (it was so hard to write, gah)**

**Anyway, thank you SO much Ankhsenamun, Kerobani, LadyRocelyn, culhane92 and kkurtenbach5 for the follows! And all you lovely reviewers who stroke my ego lol. In all seriousness, thanks again, I'm really turning out to love this whole Fan Fiction thing.**

Chapter Fourteen

Vipir was on one of the several tables in the crowded Temple of Mara, the entire room was bustling like a bee hive and the air was heavy with humidity and thick fragrances as healers, mages and alchemists flew throughout the sea of injured guards. Isobel's injuries only took half an hour to heal, her stab wound was fairly shallow and her wrist had a simple fix with a special potion that the town's top alchemist, Elgrim, had provided for her. She unfortunately had to wear a makeshift cast so the bones wouldn't heal in an unnatural position, but Elgrim said it would only need to stay on for a few nights. Rune was sitting on a chair beside Vipir's table and was doing fairly well although he needed to wash badly, his eyes were the only thing not red on his face for his entire head had a layer of dried blood coating it and it was starting to smell.

It was Vipir who was going to have the most attention, he was still struggling to breath even though it had been an hour since the dragon attack, but he was able to smile and give Isobel the thumbs up as she continued rubbing her glowing, uninjured hand over his bare chest. The head priest of Mara said that Vipir had broken a large majority of his ribs, he asked if he was whipped by the dragons tail or crushed by its foot but Vipir was still having trouble talking. He needed powerful potions to take internally to heal his bruised organs and broken bones, Isobel wasn't very knowledgeable when it came to healing bones but the Priest said healing from the outside would still help his body regenerate faster, which Isobel had taken upon herself to do. Vipir also had a bee sting on his finger which he was sure to point out.

"You're such a fucking dick. Scaring us like that." Isobel said, she was still very shaken, and was finding comfort cursing at his grinning face. "I hope Daedra take you one day."

"I don't like that Ingun Black-Briar's here." Rune said, nodding to a young girl with raven black hair following Elgrim around. "She's Elgrim's apprentice, but she's so enthralled with poisons and death and absent-minded I'm nervous she's going to kill somebody."

"Rune, can you take the wet cloth and wipe Vipir's forehead?" Isobel asked before she saw a few familiar faces emerge out of the crowd. Brynjolf and Mercer walked and took a place on either side of her at Vipir's table, staring wide-eyed at the boy's condition.

"We heard from Hans, he ran into the Flagon a little while ago, apparently Tabitha is in here somewhere." Brynjolf said as he stood beside Isobel. She suddenly grew more nervous with an audience watching her magic, and tried to concentrate. "You're a healer, lass?"

"I'm no expert, but it's a skill I value." Isobel sighed, Vipir's brown gaze shifting uneasily at the two senior members.

"Is he going to make it?" Mercer asked, eyeing Vipir's still heavily bruised chest.

"Of course he is." Isobel muttered. Rune kept silent, trying not to draw attention to himself as he dabbed Vipir's forehead with his cloth.

"What all happened? How badly is he injured?" Brynjolf said, searching Isobel with earnest, concerned eyes. She never saw that look in him before and it intrigued her.

"Rune, Vipir and I were taking a walk out by the lake, and a dragon attacked." She could tell that Brynjolf and Mercer still couldn't believe it, Rune and Vipir probably couldn't either. This was the first time any of them had seen a dragon despite hearing about their revival. Isobel was open to the juniors about being present at Helgen, but Rune and Vipir obviously didn't believe it to be as true as she swore it was. "I don't know what else to say other than that. We were walking and a dragon attacked. Us and several guards fought it, resulting in wounded and casualties." Isobel paused. "You say, Tabitha is in here? Is she okay?"

"I hear she's fine." Mercer blurted, continuing to look skeptically at Vipir. Isobel spoke further.

"Vipir has a lot of broken ribs and some internal bruising, hence his struggled breathing and movement. The Temple and the Jarl are providing him with food, bed and medical attention for two nights, but when he comes home he'll need to take two fair-sized gulps of Blue Darthwig Oil every morning and evening for the next three weeks." Mercer groaned.

"And how expensive is that going to be?" Isobel couldn't continue healing after that statement, that had shaken out of all her focus.

"As much money as it takes." She growled. Brynjolf nudged her, warning her to back off, but that nudge only fueled her more. Even if it came from someone she liked and respected she would still chew her Guild Master out if it meant bringing one of her own medical attention.

"Well, in case you haven't noticed Isobel, we don't have a whole lot of that to spare." Mercer snarled back, the two staring aggressively at each other. Brynjolf took Isobel by the arm but she shook him off.

"And what do you spend all our money on? Our non-existent fences? Our absent allies? Or do you stock pile it for yourself? If you want to bring in money you need to invest in the people who do your dirty work-" Isobel was met with a hard slap in her face, leaving her hair dishevelled as her cheek stung and grew pink. Several people turned to see what was going on with shocked faces, but when Isobel opened her eyes she saw Mercer was gone and Brynjolf disappearing into the crowd, giving Isobel a sad look over his shoulder as he left.

"Screw Ingun, you should worry about Mercer poisoning you." Rune said as he breathed out in relief that the two men were gone. "You can't keep doing that Isobel, he _will_ hurt you. It will break my heart if he does."

"Thank you." Vipir suddenly wheezed. Isobel looked down at him, ruffling his hair.

"Shut up, you little shit."


	15. Chapter 15: Isobel and Thrynn

**A/N: OH heeeey, so I know in the last chapter I said this one was going to be intense...I forgot that there was another chapter. I facepalmed so hard when I realized that, but NEXT Thursday the interesting one will be up. This one is meh, but you'll find out a bit more about Isobel's past and Brynjolf's predicament.**

**I also reached over 1000 views and am approaching 300 visitors, so thank you everyone! :)**

Chapter Fifteen

Isobel sat with her feet dangling off the docks, the cool breeze that ruffled her hair reeked of rotting flesh and honey. The dragon attack was four days ago, but you could still distinctively see where the battle had taken place. Crumpled, burnt trees surrounded by dirt as black as tar, the dragon corpse still lay rotting where it fell. The guards had cleaned up what they could, plucking off some scales and bones for scholars and alchemists, but so much of it remained. They had resorted to cutting apart the beast and burying what they could, but in the end only nature could regrow the eyesore that was outside Riften's gates.

Isobel had just finished helping Tabitha with the second-degree burns up her left arm, she had taken it to be a part of her daily routine to heal the woman each morning for a few hours. Tabitha was still in a lot of pain, but she was already back at work. Isobel felt hopelessly shallow at the fact that she was relieved after she found out Tabitha's beautiful face hadn't been marred despite her heavily scarred arm.

Vipir was back in the cistern and had only started to walk that morning, but he was still too weak to be given any jobs. With the added pressure towards the other thieves to pick up his slack, Isobel felt even worse that she wasn't bringing in any coin to help, something she though Mercer wouldn't be glad about. She was scared if he found out she wasn't working he'd send her back to Cyrodiil, but Brynjolf was still keeping her from doing any fruitful jobs. She was still training a few guys with spells, mostly Etienne and Cynric, and Niruin was still giving her some archery tips from time to time, but Brynjolf was still acting harshly towards Isobel, and to her dismay, she felt like he was finally starting to break her down.

She began to pick at a rusty nail in the dock, trying to twist it out. A song from home drifted into her head and she began to hum softly, but her lips couldn't remain pursed and she started to sing quietly to herself.

"Gentle be thy little lady,

Over where the mountains grow.

You are leaving, nice and steady

You are leaving your home.

Gentle be thy little lady,

rock the babe in your arms.

She will leave when she's ready,

she will leave you all alone."

"You like to sing, don't you?" Isobel snapped her head around and saw Thrynn. With as friendly a smile he could muster he sat beside her, his feet almost touching the waves. "I hear you sing all the time." Out of all the juniors in the Guild, he was the one she felt the most uneasy around. At least with Sapphire she just gave you ugly glares, but Thrynn was a man who liked conversation.

"Yeah, I guess so." Isobel shrugged. There was a few beats of silence before Thrynn continued.

"You know, you're pretty tough. Brynjolf wasn't that hard on me when he pulled me in."

"Brynjolf inducted you?" Isobel asked, briefly looking at Thrynn for a moment before turning her gaze back down to the waters.

"Mhm, most of the juniors were brought in by him, or Delvin if they had previous contacts with the Guild. But as you know, I ran with a bandit clan up in the Pale, and we didn't concern ourselves with Guilds and organizations." Isobel turned to pick on her rusty nail again. "Is that why you're nervous around me...? Because I was a bandit?"

"Yes." Isobel confessed, no use hiding it if it was obvious.

"You do know that I've been with the Guild for over 5 years, those days are behind me. You have no reason to be afraid. I'm not asking you to be my buddy or anything, I just want you to feel as comfortable around me as you do with the rest of the guys."

"I'll try. It's not personal. Truly." Isobel muttered. "What happened with your clan?"

"Well, it turns out I didn't like them and they didn't like me, so we parted ways. I roamed around a bit doing mercenary work, I came across Brynjolf and he said the Guild was lacking some muscle so I joined."

"I highly doubt you just up and left a horde of bandits." Isobel scoffed skeptically. "What happened?" Thrynn sighed.

"We raided a caravan one spring... I think it was a few wagons with some farmers moving to a new village. They didn't put up much of a fight. All that was left were the women and children. Then the leader of our clan... Garthek... he ordered us to kill the rest." Isobel's stomach churned and she felt sick.

"Did you...did you do that often?"

"No, we usually let them go" Thrynn said as his voice became a little more engaged." I refused to do it, and Garthek ordered the clan to kill me as well. Luckily, I had made some friends within the clan who immediately sided with me. We tore each other to pieces." He shook his head. "After it was over, those of us that remained simply went our separate ways."

"What happened to Garthek?"

"I left his head on a pike at the wreckage of the caravan." Thrynn said with rich satisfaction. Isobel wasn't sure if this made her like him more or not, he definitely fought for righteous reasons, but she was still timid at his ferocity. "I can tell, you've lost someone to bandits."

"When did brute mercenaries become good at reading people?" Isobel snapped.

"You don't have to tell me, but know that I'm not like that. Hell, Sapphire had her family killed and was raped for a fortnight by bandits, and she treats me with the equal amount of coldness as everyone else."

"Sapphire had that happen to her?" Isobel felt a lump in her throat, all bitterness towards her fading. She never thought about what must've turned Sapphire's heart black.

"Aye. It's awful." Thrynn said absent-mindedly.

"The family I had before the Guild were killed by Nord bandits." Isobel blurted, forcing herself to look at Thrynn and keep her eyes there. He definitely didn't look kind, but he opened up to her about something he wasn't proud of to try to ease her mind. It was her turn to return the favor.

"Your entire family?" Thrynn said, looking back at her. She hesitated.

"...Yes." Isobel had the told the story of her becoming an orphan countless times. In her Guild in Cyrodiil everyone knew everything about her, there were no secrets, and in Skyrim she had opened up to Niruin, Vipir, Cynric, and Rune. She didn't have that much of an issue exposing her past, she didn't feel like telling her story to someone would lessen her guard or make her weaker. But it felt very strange having a heart-to-heart conversation with someone who bashed skulls together for a living and probably had destroyed families in the same way as hers.

"Go on." He said, listening intently.

"Well, my family travelled around a lot so we didn't have a hometown or even a house. We lived in caravans." Isobel started.

"Were you merchants?"Thrynn pondered.

"No." This was where she was nervous. "We were...we were jesters." Isobel buried her head into arms. "We danced, played music, did acrobatics, sometimes performing plays my grandfather would write, I even met professional standards of juggling at age 9. Please, I know Nords hate that kind of stuff, it's why we rarely came here. That and..."She trailed off a bit, staring at the sun's reflection in the lake with unfocused eyes. " I suppose if there's ever been a time were I've been wary around you that's why..."

"What happened?"

"We were travelling from a mining camp, I forget which one it was, I just remember the fields. It was very open, maybe it was the Whiterun plains. I think I was 12. We were stopping for a break for the horses and to practice a bit when some men came. They were big, very bulky and carried weapons. Even someone as naive I knew they were trouble. They stopped, mocked our costumes and broke our instruments. They demanded we dance for them. My grandfather had enough and told them to bugger off, and they... they just killed him...My grandfather was my hero, he was my best friend, to see him get hacked to pieces in from of my eyes...it just...his cries of pain were so loud." Isobel felt a big hand on her shoulder and looked to see Thrynn's steady gaze. Isobel wasn't crying or welling up but she felt her voice quake a bit. "They continued to butcher the rest of us, my parents, my baby brother, my aunt and uncle and cousins, we were completely defenceless, even with our magic and small weapons. My mother told me to run, run without looking back...and I did."

"I travelled to Cyrodill since that was where my family got the most business, primarily the Imperial City. I performed in the streets, but no one really cared to watch a ratty kid do flips and juggle tomatoes. I had to steal to survive, and that's when the Theives Guild found me. They were impressed by my swiftness and agility, and offered to take me in and train me, they said that I wouldn't have to live on the streets anymore and be given safety and riches. I guess to me, coin didn't mean much to me as long as I had food and a safe place to sleep, and I still don't care much for wealth as I do about providing for and being a part of a family. I was 13 when I joined, that's why my skill for someone so young surprises people. I've already been in a Guild for nearly a decade and my experience with acrobatics has helped me phenomenally, and juggling is spectacular for reflexes and eye-hand coordination."

"Is that why you sing so much? Because you were a jester?"

"I guess so, I grew up around music. You should see me play the flute, I bet I could outplay any bard you can find me." Isobel smiled, starting to lighten up again since she got her story off her chest. "I can't say that the death of my family was as traumatic as Sapphire's, because I found a new family so fast. I'm not saying I've replaced my birth family, but the Thieves Guild helped me heal the pain and mourning I was going through. I feel every time I do a good job I'm living in both my birth family and Guild family's name, that I'm using the skills they taught me to be something great. I can't stand letting any of them down."

"I'm so sorry what happened to you." Thrynn said after a time.

"Don't be. It doesn't hurt me anymore, well, at least not as much as it used to." Isobel said. "I just can't help but wonder that if this Guild was more like a family if Sapphire would've turned out different..." She paused, thinking hard before continuing. "Thank you listening, I feel better. If you ever need anybody, I'm your girl." Thrynn smiled.

"Okay. I feel better too." He chuckled.

"Do you want to go get a sweet roll?"

"Yeah."

But the tender moment was interrupted as a scrap sounded behind them, both of them started and turned. Across the marine Dirge and Maul were entangled in each other's fists.

* * *

Brynjolf watched as the red waterfall of wine cascaded into his glass. He was in Riftweald Manor, Mercer's own private home provided to him by Maven Black-Briar. He rarely used the place, usually only for wealthy clients who travelled to Riften so that they may have a professional and private place to do business instead of the filthy Ratways. It had been so long since such a person came to the Guild that a small layer of dust clung to every surface and cobwebs stretched across the ceiling planks. For the most part, Mercer was at his desk in the cistern, or behind the large steel doors that held his own private quarters and the Guild's savings.

"So, let's talk of business. First things first, have we reached this week's quota?" Mercer said as he poured his own glass.

"No. We're a 585 hundred septims under. We've sent out all we could, but-"

"Vipir is still injured and we had to pay for his oils, I know I know." Even though they put aside a large cut for Vipir, Mercer only allowed him enough potions for 10 days instead of 3 weeks. Apparently Isobel was furious when she found out, but fortunately was calmed before she could get a hold of Mercer or Brynjolf's necks. "But did you send Isobel?" Mercer said, digging his fork into the cooked salmon before him. "Go ahead, eat." He gestured to Brynjolf to tuck into his own meal as well.

"I haven't." Brynjolf said after a bite of the succulent fish. "I've been training her, trying to get it into her head how we do things. She's still quite fiery, but I'm starting to tame her." He lied. He was far from breaking the girl and she was exhausting him.

"She has told you the little deal I have going on with her, correct?" Mercer asked, pointing his fork at Brynjolf.

"She's said she gets a place to stay until Gray Fox summons her home, and in return she won't receive a cut from any of her jobs."

"Precisely." Mercer said with a full mouth. "But how do you expect her to earn her keep if she isn't handling any jobs?"

"I'm working on it boss, but-"

"_No buts, Brynjolf_. I can't blame her for not bringing money in if her superiors won't give her work, and I know she has good enough skill that she doesn't need training like some of the rookies you usually drag in. I've been watching, she's excellent at lock picking, skilled in combat and you didn't even notice when she swiped your elven dagger out your belt during one of your pathetic little sessions."

_'Damn, that's where that went.' _Brynjolf felt a wave of humiliation.

"Start giving her work." Mercer paused, looking at Brynjolf intensely. "She hasn't told you what happens if she fails to keep her end of the bargain, has she?" Brynjolf shook his head. "I ship her to the Imperial City in a crate filled with as many skeevers I can stuff in with her."

"I see, she did not enlighten me on that." Brynjolf felt uneasy. The whole reason he wasn't giving her jobs was because he wanted to prevent her ego from inflating and furthering her feud with Mercer. Brynjolf knew she could handle any job he threw at her and didn't want her to become more arrogant. Now he had no choice but to send her out.

"Well, now you are." Mercer said with a smile. "I hear she's also the lover of Gray Fox? You've heard that rumor?"

"Aye, but I don't believe it. It was probably fabricated by Vipir." Brynjolf shoke his head after a sip of wine.

. "Ah yes... maybe it _is_ just all gossip..." Mercer said as he wiped his mouth with a handkerchief thoughtfully. "So? We clear? You're going to start giving her work? It'd be nice to rid the cistern of her for a few days, maybe I'll be able to do my job without the little imp challenging me."

"Yes, Mercer."

"Good." They finished their meal speaking of the current condition of the Guild, what debts they still had to pay and how they could possibly gain any foothold in another city. Most of it was just small talk at this point, Brynjolf and Mercer had discussed the issue thousandfold but Mercer took no obvious initiative in restoring the Guild. All Brynjolf could do was trust Mercer and use the position he was given to benefit the Guild as much as he could.

"Oh, and Brynjolf." Mercer said as he stood up to clear the dishes. "Before you go back to the cistern, remind Delvin he still hasn't fixed the hole in the ceiling."

Brynjolf nodded, thanked Mercer for the meal, and stepped out the front door into the dark Riften street. He put his hands in his pockets as he strolled south, he wanted to make sure Grelod the Kind hadn't locked a child in the Honorhall orphanage courtyard for the night as she'd done in the past. He reached courtyard and pulled himself up to peek over the edge through the iron barbs that lined the top of the wall, looking into the shadows to make sure no unfortunate boy or girl was shaking in the bush. There weren't any to his relief, and Brynjolf let go and continued to lean with his back against the wall. The sky was clouded, blocking any heavenly light from reaching the earth and enveloping it in darkness. Brynjolf looked up at the blackness above him, deep in thought of what he was going to do with Isobel.

He could keep her in Riften and risk Mercer sending her away, or give her jobs and watch her become a threat to Mercer. Either way risked her safety. He never had to deal with a Guild member in such a way, and the fact that she was so young sparked the same sort of emotions he felt when trying to help the children at Honorhall. Except Mercer made Grelod look genuinely kind. And none of the orphans were as cocky and outspoken as Isobel was. Yes, Brynjolf knew he couldn't afford to go soft on her now, that she still needed him to bear down and hurt her.

He sighed heavily, banging his head against the wall behind him slightly. The last thing he ever wanted to do was try to snuff out the flame of someone he thought was brilliant. But Delvin's words echoed in his head.

_'...she needs to be reined in before something bad happens to her...remember, it's for her own good...'_


	16. Chapter 16: The Amethyst

Isobel had managed to convince Delvin to join a game of cards with herself, Etienne and Thrynn. Almost every time Vex went out on a job Isobel hung out in the Flagon, it beat the cistern and she enjoyed Delvin and Vekel's company. Even Dirge was starting to warm up a bit, but Tonilia still sat by herself. Isobel knew she was going to butt heads with Brynjolf in the training room as soon as he got back from supper at Riftweald Manor and only indulged in a few sips of Thrynn's mead.

"Okay boy, put 'em in." Delvin said shuffling cards as Etienne placed three spoons in the center of the table. Delvin dealt them each 4 cards, placed the remaining deck on the table, and took the top card off. He looked at it briefly before passing it to his left to Isobel. The rules were simple, get 4 of a kind from any suit and grab a spoon in the middle, triggering the rest of the players to fight over the remaining utensils. Whoever's left without a spoon has to pay the penalty of one snowberry, and whoever was left with the most berries when they decided to stop playing was the winner.

"You hear that little boy what escaped the orphanage last month is up in Windhelm?" Delvin said as the cards moved around the table, the players switching and choosing what they felt would bring them the most luck before passing the rejected card to the next person.

"No, I haven't. That's quite a trek for a little boy to make by himself." Etienne said. "Is he okay?"

"Hard to tell, folks say he's locked up in his old house, tryin' to summon the Dark Brotherhood." Delvin mumbled. "Let's hope they go easy on the kid. I know some of those killers, they may charge him more than he has."

"_You _know people in the Dark Brotherhood?! Like the assassin organization?" Isobel said incredulously.

"He knows every shady figure from here to Valenwood." Dirge grunted as he stood watching the game, his expression somewhat softer that it normally was.

"Aye, that I do. Then again, I hear they're havin' some trouble connectin' with their clients, so they may not even know he's callin' them." Delvin shrugged.

"You think they're hit with the same curse we are, Delvin?" Thrynn said with a smirk, but Etienne had grabbed a spoon lightning fast and the table was in a frenzy. Delvin managed to snag one and the remaining spoon was caught between Isobel and Thrynn. The room erupted with cheering and shouting as the two battled for the spoon. Thrynn chuckled as he manipulated Isobel's arm, she was no match against his strength but continued to latch onto the utensil as if her life depended on it. He suddenly let go, causing Isobel to topple off her chair as the men clapped and banged the table.

"Hey! You're not supposed to just give it to me." Isobel said as she laid laughing on the floor.

"I'm sorry, Issy. I couldn't resist." Thrynn grinned as he patted her on the shoulder when she sat back down. It took another few moments for the room to quieten down before Delvin to begin dealing the cards again.

"I never realized how much laughter echoes in this room." Vekel said thoughtfully, cleaning a mug with his rag. "You guys are welcome to do this whenever, Vex doesn't have to loiter in this place all the time, she rarely buys drinks anyway." He smiled directly at Isobel and she smiled back.

Delvin was starting to pass out cards when the group heard footsteps approaching the tavern and looked to see Brynjolf emerge around the corner. The room steadily grew quieter as he walked up to their table.

"You ready for more training, lass?" He asked, crossing in arms.

"No. Can I play a few more rounds?" She said defiantly, she felt someone nudge her foot underneath the table.

"Fine." Brynjolf agreed to Isobel's surprise. "Each minute you take before you enter the training room will result in twice as many fights I have to win." He turned to leave the tavern. "And I'm counting." The table looked sad all except for Delvin, who looked that same as he always did.

"What does he mean? About having to win fights?" Etienne asked as Delvin handed out cards.

"When we do combat training we simply go until he wins five fights." Isobel shrugged. He knew how to push her, how she would never simply surrender if she was tired or hurt, and it damaged her pride when he turned his back on her after she was defeated.

"That's smart." Delvin said under his breath, making Isobel even sadder. She picked up her hand and looked at her cards. A 7 and 5 of spades, a king of hearts, and an 8 of diamonds. Not a good hand.

"You shouldn't focus on him. You've got almost the whole Guild at your back, you've brought us together in a way no one else has. Truly Issy, you've got us." Thrynn said as he wrapped his arm around Isobel and gave her a tight squeeze.

"I just want to impress him again!" Isobel blurted loudly before cupping her hand over her mouth, she hadn't intended on saying that. The men simply looked at her.

"Trust me little lady, you do." Delvin said with a smile.

"No I don't!" Isobel was starting to get emotional. "All I want is for him to look at me the same way he did when I first came here." The room felt awkward at the sudden change of mood. "He once smiled at me, how come he stopped doing that?! What did I do Delvin?!" She searched Delvin with frustrated eyes, begging for an answer. Everyone was silent, no one knowing what to say, even Delvin. It wasn't until Tonilia walked out from her porch into the main bar area did someone speak.

"Because he realized you're a burden." She said with a blank expression. Isobel wasn't the only one to snap out of her chair with teeth clenched and eyes on fire, Thrynn and Dirge had mimicked her and Tonilia suddenly looked frightened at the three.

"Hey! Calm down!" Vekel shouted as he quickly exited from behind the bar and tried to pull Tonilia away. "All four of you! This may be Thieves Guild territory but it's still my tavern and I _won't_ tolerant fights in here!"

"_Isobel, sit_." Delvin said fiercely, but Isobel didn't listen. Instead she slammed her cards on the table, crushed her remaining snowberries with her fist and stormed out of the room, shoving her shoulder into Tonilia as she passed by.

"You can expect me fighting Brynjolf to the dawn!" She shrieked.

But as soon as she was through the hidden mead cabinet door and out of sight and ear-shot her shoulders sagged and her head drooped. She had gotten too emotional, and told the men things she didn't want anybody to know. That she wanted to win Brynjolf over. That the only thing pushing her ferocity towards him was her crumbling pride. That she didn't want to fight him anymore. That she was weak.

That she wanted him to play cards with them too.

She rubbed her face in her hands briefly in an attempt to compose herself, and realized they were sticky with snowberry juice, the red stains reminding her of blood. There was still blood on her hands. Her bottom lip quivered as she hastily rubbed them on her armor.

However, Isobel entered the training room with her chin up and fists clenched, giving off as much body language as she could that she was strong, but instead she saw a very angry red-head leaning over a crate with dead skeevers littered about him.

"What did you do?!" Isobel exclaimed, walking over to the mess. "I was using those for-" But she stopped in her tracks when Brynjolf turned to her. His face was as red as his hair and it startled Isobel.

"These are yours?" He said through gritted teeth.

"Yes, I caught them in the Ratways, I was using them to teach Etienne and Cynric some spells, they've only been there for a day..." Brynjolf continued looking upset but his breathing was becoming more calm, he ran one of his hands through his hair and sighed heavily. Isobel was utterly shocked that someone who lived in sewers would be offended by caged skeevers...until she finally realized that he must've thought they were Mercer's. "You didn't think that...that they were for me, did you?" But Brynjolf didn't answer, he simply picked up the large rodents by the scruff of their limp necks and threw them back inside the crate, leaving small little pools of blood underneath his feet.

"I don't want to see those in here again, got that lass?"

"Yeah, okay."

"Today we're going to do some sneak exercises." He said as he banged the crate lid into its grooves. "We're going to..." But when Brynjolf turned around Isobel wasn't there. He was confused only for a second before he was met with a kick in his back and found his upper body flattened on the top in the crate with two small kneecaps pressing into his biceps, pinning him down.

"I already know how to sneak." Isobel said as she sat on his back. Brynjolf bucked her light frame off with ease and sent her crashing on the ground. "If I was better at Conjuration I would reanimate those dead skeevers and make them chew your face off." She grumbled.

"Cute." Brynjolf said unamused. "By the way, have you seen my elven dagger anywhere, lass?"

"Last time I saw it it was buried in a dragon's eye socket." Isobel said with a small smirk, it was about time he noticed it was gone. She would've paid money to see Brynjolf's face, but he was looking for something in a nearby cupboard.

"Here we go." Brynjolf pulled out a large metal cup. Isobel still sat on the floor with her arms around her legs, starting to grow curious. Brynjolf walked over to the center of the room and poured what must've been thousands of tiny marbles onto the floor. They rolled in all directions, spreading all the way out to the walls. Soon the entire ground was covered with the small orbs, no two being longer than 3 inches from each other. "Get up, lass." He scolded. Isobel stood up reluctantly as he continued. "The Guild Master's been watching in on our little sessions... He's impressed, thinks your ready..." Brynjolf took out a fairly large sized amethyst and held it out between his thumb and index finger, then slowly placed it in his front pocket.

"You get a hold of this thing and I'll give you a job out in Falkreath."

"Is this a joke?" Isobel couldn't believe it, she simply stared at Brynjolf with big, blue eyes.

"No." He stated. "I'll be blindfolded, and I'll walk around the room slowly, but if I hear any of these beads move against each other, I'm taking the fold off and we'll fight. No daggers...and no magic." He said and gave her a stern look.

"How many times do I have to beat you?"

"Once." Brynjolf said to a confused Isobel. "But it won't be easy, I assure you." And with that he tied a strip of black cloth around his eyes, making a tight knot at the back. Isobel had never done this before, and it looked like fun had she been with a friend instead of Brynjolf. She was just nervous about the possibility of dueling with someone on such a hazardous floor.

Brynjolf began to put one foot in front of the other, shuffling through the metal beads as they clinked amongst themselves. His arms ever so slightly outstretched, making sure he didn't walk into a wall, as he sped up and slowed down in all directions. Isobel waited, crouching near the ground, she wanted to creep as close to him as possible, for he made a path through the orbs as he strolled through. She didn't move, waiting only until he was within a small ways from her before taking a small leap and landing behind him with the silence a shadow would envy.

Trying to focus on his pocket while manoeuvring around the marbles was proving to be extremely difficult, what was even more so was Brynjolf's posterior in her face.

_'He has a nice ass._' Isobel's eyes widened at herself as she scowled. _'By the gods, I can't believe I just thought that.'_ But before she knew it her foot had slipped on a bead, and she had to duck onto all fours as Brynjolf turned sharply and swung his arm over her. She scrambled through his open legs before he tore his blind fold off and looked at the ground, puzzled as to where she went. Isobel took the opportunity to shove her hand into his pocket but he grabbed her wrist before she could grip the amethyst. Luckily she was still in a position where she was able to slam all her body weight behind his left knee, causing him to let go of her wrist and stumble but not fall.

Brynjolf turned around and made to grab Isobel, but she did a tuck and roll out of the way, grimacing as her shoulder and back rolled along the hard marbles, and stood up, almost slipping as the beads rolled from under her. She dodged another one of Brynjolf's punches before kicking him as hard as she could in the abdomen, causing him to retch. She made another brash attempt at his pocket, but found herself suddenly wrapped in a bear hug with her back against Brynjolf's heaving chest.

"Let go." She grunted, and brought up her feet to an attempt to weigh him down, but she was too light and Brynjolf too strong, and even when she struggled and kicked in the air he held on.

"Mercer and I talked about you tonight, lass." Brynjolf said, his voice right beside her ear. Her resistance diminished, leaving her squirming only half-heartedly as she felt his heavy breath on her neck. "He says I'm to give you work. But you need to do something for me first."

"What, do I have to lick the bottom of your boot for each job you give me?" Isobel hissed, wiggling her hand down her side, almost reaching his pocket.

"Close. You have to surrender to me. Right now." He whispered softly as Isobel delicately entered his pocket and felt the cool, smoothness of the gem. As she pulled back her hand in triumph he suddenly released her from his grip, making her body feel a blast of cold as it left Brynjolf's warmth. He grabbed her hand and almost plucked the purple gem right out of it had Isobel not swung around and clamped both hands on the prize. Her grip made her earlier battle for Thrynn's spoon look like child's play. She pulled with all her might, sinking to the floor and causing Brynjolf kneel down with her as he tried to pry her hands off the amethyst.

"Brynjolf, you know I had it!" Isobel shrieked, her rage only tightening her clasp. She was so focused on the gem she didn't even see Brynjolf back hand her across her face.

"Let go Isobel!"

"No!" Another backhand, more powerful than the first, making her face sting and eyes water.

"Let go Isobel, please!"

"Do you honestly think manners will work?!" Isobel glared at him, but she was not met with mirrored anger. Instead Brynjolf's face looked frustrated and tired, like he hadn't slept in days, and there was the faintest look of desperation in his green eyes.

"Let go, Isobel." He said again, his voice was...cracked? Isobel couldn't believe it. "I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to fight. I'm exhausted, lass." Isobel was speechless, her brow coming closer together as she frowned.

"Who the hell are you right now!?" She yelled. "What the fuck is this!?"

"Just let go, lass." He said softly, making Isobel even more upset. "If you surrender I'll leave you alone. I don't want to fight anymore Isobel, please. I had to try breaking you for your own good."

"You fucking _had_ to!?" Isobel spat, bracing her feet against his torso and pushing away, trying to bring the amethyst with her, but he just pulled her closer, bringing their faces close as he looked down into her from above.

"Yes." His hair dangled down the sides of his face like a curtain, the tips tickling Isobel's forehead as she glared up at him, daring him to continue as they held onto the gem between them. "Your arrogance and stubbornness were, and still are, putting you in danger, I took it upon myself to try and teach you to be humble before you got in serious trouble with Mercer. You need to step down, Isobel. For your own safety." Isobel kept staring intensely at him, little beads of sweat were forming over his brow and she was able to see the long pink scar that marred his left cheek. Strangely enough, it seemed to enhance his handsomeness instead of subtracting it.

"Surrender Isobel, give me the amethyst and lay your pride to sleep." Brynjolf's face was a mixture of pleading and sternness. "Put your pride down, until you return to Cyrodiil. You continue to challenge Mercer and you'll be going home dead. I don't want to fight any more lass, but neither do I want to see you hurt."

"This is coming from the man who's done nothing but hit and beat me down for three weeks!" Isobel hissed. "I'm not letting go Brynjolf, you know I had it. And I'm offended that you think I'd just _hand_ you the prize, you know I'm not like that."

"This is my point." He said, gripping her hands until she gasped. "You need to surrender,_ give_ me victory, and when you do I will give you jobs and stop the nightly training sessions."

Isobel clenched her teeth as her eyes began to water again. The deal was so tantalizing, give him the amethyst and he'll leave her alone and give her work. But each time Isobel prepared herself to let go of the gem she couldn't do it, it didn't feel right. It felt like she was signing over her soul, like she was going to betray her identity, she would rather fight Brynjolf for days than give up.

"No, I can't!" She shouted, surprised that she was actually crying. Tears were running in rivers down her cheeks and her nose was running. "I won't!" She felt Brynjolf suddenly on top of her, pinning her to the ground as marbles flew away from them in tiny chatters.

"Let go." Brynjolf snapped, growing more frantic, for his eyes were starting to glaze over as if Isobel was the one torturing him. "Give up Isobel, please. It's for your own good." But Isobel was starting to cry harder, shaking her head. With that Brynjolf kneeled up slowly and put his right foot on Isobel's throat. With the saddest look she had ever seen on a man's face, he slowly stood up, keeping pressure on Isobel's neck. Choking and gasping she tried to hold onto the amethyst, but even with her arms completely outstretched Brynjolf had more room to pull. Unable to breathe with his boot closing off her airway, Isobel felt one more harsh tug and the purple gem slip through her fingers. Instantly Brynjolf fled the room without looking back, leaving Isobel coughing and openly sobbing.

She felt like he just ripped out a piece of her, that there was a gaping hole in her heaving bosom. She rolled on her side and curled up in the fetal position, wiping her nose with her sleeve. Her hands were stiff and rigid for clamping down so hard for so long. Suddenly she felt two arms pick her up and cradle her and opened her red, swollen eyes to see Thrynn.

"What did he do?" He said through clenched teeth as Vipir and Etienne appeared from behind him and took a place by his side. Thrynn stroked his thumb against her cheek and she winced when he felt where Brynjolf back handed her. "Did he hit you?" He said even more fiercely.

"It looks like there's a bruise already forming there!" Etienne gently held her chin and turned her head so he could see. Isobel just shook her head, causing more tears to race down her face, Thrynn held her tighter to his chest as she sobbed.

"I'm so weak...I'm so weak."


	17. Chapter 17: To Windhelm

Chapter Seventeen

It took a while for everyone to fall asleep that night. After she stopped crying and closed her eyes, Isobel listened as the boys continued to speak amongst themselves in a frenzy.

"I knew something was up as soon as I heard yelling."

"I can't believe he hit her! He's never done anything like that before."

"Where is he now? Did he honestly flee the cistern?"

"I've never seen her so beat down. She did nothing wrong."

It seemed like forever they talked, it was Delvin who had to split them up and send them to bed like children. Within the next few hours Isobel focused on rebuilding herself, laying on her back with her eyes gently closed, breathing in and out and consciously relaxing each part of her body, visualising the empty void in her chest refilling with blood and tissue, making her whole.

She breathed in. _'You are Isobel Woodwing. You are senior member of the Cyrodiilic Thieves Guild. You are a survivor of dragons. You are a fighter.'_

She breathed out. _'You will prove Brynjolf wrong. You will sneak out. You will steal. You will regain all pride and strength as you lay your hunt before them. You will be given respect.'_

Slowly she felt herself calm down, the pieces of her mind coming together as she realigned herself and planned her course of action. She sat up and surveyed the room with groggy eyes, making sure nobody else was awake. She eased out of the covers and stood up, grabbing her backpack from beside her bed and swinging it over her shoulder as she made her way towards a slumbering Thrynn. Crouching beside his bed, she quickly clasped both her hands over his snoring mouth. His eyes opened almost instantly followed by a brief struggle before he realized the hooded figure beside him was Isobel.

"Shhh. It's just me." She whispered, retreating her hands. "We need to be quiet and I need you to listen."

"Yeah, sure, anything Issy. What is it? Are you okay?" Thrynn muttered under his breath, leaning up on his elbows.

"I'm going out of town for a few days, I need to bring in some loot otherwise Mercer will kick me out. Do you understand?"

"This has something to do with Brynjolf." Thrynn didn't ask. He stated.

"No." Isobel hissed, but Thrynn's skeptical gaze saw through her. "Okay yes, I want to spite the hell out of him. But I seriously do need to bring gold in for Mercer too, maybe get Vipir the rest of his potions. I'll be gone for no more than a week, I _promise_ you."

"What do I say to everyone?"

"Tell them the truth. Even Brynjolf and Mercer. I can't sit here any longer, I need to prove myself." Isobel said. Thrynn grabbed her hands firmly.

"Be safe." He whispered, looking into her. "Come back to us."

"I will." Isobel squeezed his rough, calloused hands before sneaking away. She made her way to the kitchen silently, packing her bag with the essentials, some survival gear and some extras like a small hand mirror (always handy when peeking around corners) and a glass jar. With that she scrambled up the ladder leading to the surface.

Isobel crept out of the mausoleum and in amongst the graves, making her way towards a statue of Talos that was conveniently close to a city wall. She didn't want to exit through Riften's gates, she didn't want anyone to see which direction she was going, for Isobel didn't know if Brynjolf or Mercer were the type to go after renegade Guild members.

Down the back alley she snuck, under the same blackened sky Brynjolf gazed up at several hours earlier, the only difference being the lilac hue that was approaching from the east. Isobel hustled, trying to make sure her pack didn't make too much noise as she reached the large statue. Talos was a Nord god, that's all she knew. That and the fact that Talos worship is banned. Lucky for her, Riften was under Ulfric's influence, giving her an easily climbable structure to ascend to the top of and over the Riften wall.

She had already grabbed the deity's hands and placed her foot on the head of the serpent it was conquering when she noticed a man's sleeping frame in behind the statue. She froze. It was Brynjolf.

Against all her good judgement she crept on all fours to look over his curled up body, watching the rise and fall of his chest as her eyes trailed up to his face. In the light of the candles on Talos' shrine, Isobel could see crow's feet starting to form around Brynjolf's frowning eyes, which made her to wonder how old he actually was. He gave off an aura of youth but she knew he must've at least been in his 40's. Isobel tilted her head as the gazed further, he looked anguished as some locks of red hair laid across his face like burgundy ribbons, rippling down his strong, Nordic jaw and nose. He smelled like mead, and sure enough there were a couple empty bottles nearby.

Isobel couldn't help herself, and was internally screaming at herself to leave, but she slowly and tenderly put her hand in his pocket, pulling out the amethyst. She looked at the purple gem in the palm of her hand before gripping it tightly, cursing her need to impress someone who did not deserve her time. Even though she swore her pilgrimage out of Riften was to restore herself, she knew she was only looking forward to seeing Brynjolf's dumb face when she came back with a prize even he wouldn't attempt to steal.

And as she gazed at the stone God towering above them, she knew exactly where she was going to get such a prize.

Climbing up the statue, she perched on Talos' winged helmet, bracing herself for the leap to the wall's edge. She did so with the ease of a born acrobat, and pulled herself up onto the ledge. She gave Brynjolf once last look before she lowered herself on the opposite side of the wall and let go.

* * *

It was the midnight when Isobel saw Windhelm and, sitting with her bed roll covering her shoulders on a nearby mountain ledge, began analyzing the city's approximate layout as she shivered in the cold.

It had taken her two days to reach her destination, the journey wouldn't have taken so long if Isobel wasn't hell bent on making sure she was properly fed, slept and watered when she reached the frozen city. She wanted her body to be at its peak, she was going to need all her skills and senses if she was to succeed at the stupid errand she assigned herself with.

_'Talos helped you once, he's going to help you again.'_ Isobel thought to herself.

She was going after an amulet of Talos, specifically Ulfric Stormcloak's.

The fact that she was about the steal what she figured would be the rebel leader's most prized possession, that was most likely on his person at all times, while also in a city she's never been to and in risk of being recognized by the future High King himself or (if the gods were unmerciful) Ralof, was quite ballsy even for her. But she decided it and that was final.

The Hold was a fortress, the only structure one could make out beyond the thick, icy stone walls was a giant stone palace towering over the stone city, doing anything but shielding against the bitter wind. And like any fortress, the only entrance was over a very long, very guarded stone bridge that lead to the city's gates over the White River. There were docks leading into the city sure, but Isobel knew she wouldn't be able to swim across the half-frozen, glacier waters.

She took the jar she plucked from the Thieves Guild kitchen out of her pack, opening it to reveal the thick mud she had created for the sole purpose of smearing all over her face. One of the very first things Isobel contributed to the Guild was when she was 13, and it was the use of face paint. Isobel had used it all the time when she was a jester, and even though she wasn't great at it she knew the basic principles. As time went on, her and some other thieves perfected the use of make up for disguise, learning how to make one appear older or younger or even contouring someone's face to change the appearance of their bone structure. They, of course, had better quality paints than mud, but Isobel had to work with what she had.

She tried to scoop some out, but it was almost rock hard from being in the snowy tundra, and she had to warm it in her frigid hands and mix it with melted snow before it was soft and runny enough to spread. Looking in her hand mirror she made sure to get down her neck, her ears, her hairline, so that no white skin was able to shine through.

The trick was to leave and exit the city without being seen within a few hours. The challenge of trying to find where Ulfric was and how to infiltrate it without scouting was one thing, but she couldn't hang around at all, or even let the random passerby see her face. Someone sees a new woman in town the same night something is stolen from the Jarl would place one big bounty on her head even if she wasn't caught. Isobel also imagined the Jarl's court wizard would have at least some of the Blue Darthwing Oils she needed for Vipir.

She needed a guard's apparel, if she could don one of those she would probably be allowed to enter the Jarl's keep itself and be able to snoop around while drawing less attention. Their helmets were the same as the Riften guards much to Isobel's delight, meaning they covered the face. There were guards that patrolled the bridge, but it was a gamble to knock one out and pray that they'd stay under long enough for Isobel to do her job and leave, and she couldn't knock a guard out, strip him and leave him in the cold to freeze to death, that was unprofessional.

Isobel could see a few cottages stretching east just below her hill, a single guard patrolling up and down the lane connecting them. They looked like farms, but Isobel dismissed the thought of someone being able to grow crop in such belligerent weather. If she could lure that guard into one of those isolated houses, she could probably bind and gag them along with whatever lowly civilians were inside, leaving them in a sheltered place and out of the way.

With that, she threw her rope over her shoulder, pocketed her lock picks and mirror and made off, leaving the rest of her belongings and backpack in the snow. There were three cottages, and she chose to target the middle one, it was far enough from the city while close enough for her to reach the gates in less time. She slid down the rocks of her perch, landing just behind the first cottage.

Creeping in the dark snow banks while the guard had his back to her was easy, and once she managed to creep behind the stone shack she realized the place _was_ a farm. Bushels of wheat stood upright, covered in frost and ready to harvest. Impressed at the home owners gardening abilities, Isobel slowly emerged to the front of the cottage, checking to make sure the guard didn't see her yet. He was still far off, so Isobel quickly approached the front door and picked the lock. It was definitely harder, picking a lock in the cold. The metal was stiffer and stuck more, but Isobel managed to break it open and sneak inside.

The interior of the house was similar to Gerdur's, one room, stone walls, thatch roof. It was dark save for the dwindling embers of the fire, and Isobel could see the figure of an old woman sleeping on a single bed.

'_Beautiful'._ Isobel thought, as she was able to cut the rope with her dagger into four strips and tie them to each of the bedposts without causing the slightest stir from the woman. With deft hands Isobel bound the each of the woman's feet to the foot board, knotting them tightly to restrict any movement. Isobel then brashly took a piece of cloth and wrapped it around the woman's gray head, causing her to wake groggily as Isobel tied the blindfold. She then squeezed the sleeper's mouth open and stuffed a rag inside, muffling the shriek before it could escape the woman's lips. Isobel pressed the cool steel of a dagger to the ladies throat firmly, signalling her to remain silent, which she did.

Isobel tied the woman's hands to her headboard, testing her well-practiced knots by poking her blade into her captive's belly to make her squirm. The ropes held tight as the woman started to cry, she looked like a terrified little animal as Isobel shoved the gag further into her mouth. Without a sound, Isobel moved and peeked out the front door. The guard's torch indicated he was far away, and it took nearly 5 whole minutes of the old woman crying and struggling for him to be even remotely close.

_'I never thought I'd be on a job and curse shitty security.'_ Isobel sighed to herself. She threw the door open, causing a bone chilling draft to sweep through the house. She placed two fingers in her mouth a whistled, causing the guard to jump and look directly at her. He was already running up to the cottage before Isobel started to wave him in, and it wasn't until he was close enough to see her black face under her hood did he figure out something was wrong.

It was too late though, Isobel grabbed him by the collar and threw him inside, slamming the door behind her as the guard stumbled around and dropped his torch. He reached for his sword but Isobel had already administered a sharp blow to his temple with the hilt of her dagger. Although his helmet prevented him from being knocked out he definitely flattered, giving Isobel time to wind up her foot and kick him in the knee with all her strength. The Nord yelled as his leg gave out from under him, Isobel was able to rip his helmet off with both hands and swung it into his head.

The Nord fell over on all fours, shaking his head as Isobel stood over him and placed her thighs on either side of his neck and squeezed, blocking the arteries from delivering blood to his brain. The guard struggled for a few moments, but Isobel's iron grip was too strong, and with a final grimace the Nord guard fell unconscious, causing the ground to shake as he hit the floor. Isobel kicked his sword away from him as the tied up old woman screamed behind her gag. Isobel threw his torch in the fireplace before it could set anything on fire.

Stripping him was hard, he was bulky and it took forever for Isobel to maneuver the layers of clothes off him. Once she finally took his last article of clothing off him, leaving him only in his loincloth, Isobel dragged him to the bed. He was too heavy to be lifted into a chair, so she resorted to tying his hands on the same bedposts the old woman's feet were bound and then binding his feet together. He was still out cold when Isobel pushed a cloth into his mouth and covered him with a blanket.

Isobel then began to pull on the guard's armor over her own as the tied up woman continued to thrash. Although Isobel was glad the Nord's outfit was big enough to let her keep her Thieves Guild armor on underneath, she was still quite short. The cuirass went past her knees and she had to tuck the pants into her boots. Her boots, by the way, which were also inside the Windhelm Guard's ones, for the Nord's feet were so large she could keep her boots on in his. The helmet was awful too, if Isobel ever cursed hoods for blocking peripheral vision the helmet was 10 times worse, limiting her line of sight to only directly in front of her.

She picked up and sheathed the guard's sword, plucked the old woman's house key and took off through the front door, locking it behind her.

The trek felt long in the bitter cold, but as she reached the stone bridge it felt longer. Her heart beating in her chest, she walked the long walk up to the gates, praying she didn't look suspicious or out of place. Frostbitten shrubs and overgrowth grew in the cracks of the bridge, her foots steps crunching in the snow, the stone work of the bridge was almost as intimidating as the male guard who passed her in the opposite direction. Isobel felt her spirits rise slightly at the fact that he never cast her a second glace.

But the entrance into Windhelm reinvited her nervousness into her. Two large guards stood on either side of a pair of monstrous doors, iron with cryptic symbols carved into them and their surrounding threshold, the main theme seemed to be eagles and bears. Isobel willed herself to not stare up at the dizzying height of the gates, and approached the bronze handles. To her sheer amazement, she was able to open the giant metal door with ease, it swung gracefully on its hinges towards her as she stepped forward.

The gates shut behind her with a sound like thunder.


	18. Chapter 18: Shaking the Guild

Chapter Eighteen

"Well...I don't know what to think." Mercer muttered as he tapped his fingers on the table pensively. "I can't blame her, after what I found about what happened last night." He shot Brynjolf a dirty look. "But what shall I do with her when...or even _if_...she comes back?"

It was noon the day after Isobel's disappearance. Gossip and chatter was flying every which way like confetti and all tasks and agendas were put on hold until things were sorted out. Of course, as soon as Brynjolf entered the cistern from the secret passage, his head throbbing and body stiff from his drunken slumber outside, all of Isobel's cohorts were hounding him. It was Thrynn who caught a dizzy Brynjolf as Cynric pushed him, and it was Thrynn who revealed to him that Isobel was gone.

"She's going out for a short time." He said simply. Mercer had gathered himself along with the senior members and Thrynn into an isolated table in the Flagon for a quiet place to talk. "She wants to bring some gold in. She felt she wasn't being given opportunities to pay back the Guild for taking her in and took off. She said she'd be no longer than a week."

Brynjolf sat at the table rubbing his temples, it felt like knives were wedged behind his eyes. He was still finding it hard to imagine that Isobel was at that moment in the wilderness somewhere, in a quest to restore the honor that was taken by him the night before. He reached into his pocket subconsciously and found it empty. He frantically began patting his other compartments in search of his amethyst.

"Stop it, Brynjolf." Mercer snapped. "This whole thing wouldn't have happened if you just gave her bloody work to do in the first place. Dare I even ask _why_ you refused to let an already experienced thief go?" Brynjolf vainly tried to wet his dry mouth before speaking.

"I wanted to break her, humble her so that she wouldn't be so defiant. I thought she would only be trouble if I sent her out with her arrogance."

"While I do admire your intentions, for she is a stubborn_ imp_, I cannot help but think your attempts to smother her flames only ended up only stoking them." Mercer said, his voice growing deeper and slower.

"She should still be punished." Vex's stony face said. Brynjolf felt nauseas and tensed up, and he saw Thrynn and Delvin do the same. Vex was always so easy to intimidate, like Isobel she guarded her pride, only instead of doing work to prove herself she resorted to simply eliminating all competition. "I don't care her reasons, a member of the Guild takes off like that they need to face consequences. If we let ourselves come and go freely on little adventures the Guild would be even less of what it is now."

"She's trying to benefit the Guild." Thrynn said through clenched teeth.

"You both have points, but I feel I lean more towards Vex." Mercer said predictably. Brynjolf's new stress levels were only heightening his headache as his head hung limply. Despite all his efforts to prevent Isobel from harm it had found her anyway and, like his market stand, he failed. "But her punishment will depend entirely on what she brings back." Mercer looked at Brynjolf. "Since you've already had experience tormenting her, I'll leave to you to carry out whatever consequences I lay upon her."

"She's trying to benefit the Guild, she ran off so she could bring in coin!" Thrynn half-shouted. Mercer's eyebrows raised before coming back down in a ferocious stare.

"Isobel has also seemed to gather quite the little posse, hasn't she?" He said as he spoke to Thrynn. "Is her unbearable attitude what attracts everyone to her, or is it a little more..._base_, than that?" Brynjolf saw Thrynn's fist clench and prayed the beast of a man could keep his composure. Mercer did make a good question though, Isobel _had _assembled her own little army. Cynric had never pushed Brynjolf before, and they had known each other since they were in their early 20's. Isobel was even starting to tame Dirge and pull him out of Tonilia's control. In a way, it was terrifying, that Isobel had gathered a den of thieves at her back in such a short time that were already starting to resist authority in her name.

"Mercer, there is nothin' we can do until she gets back. We'll probably be more productive if we carry on as normal now and deal with her once she returns." Delvin had spoken up, trying to end the conversation.

"Fair enough." Mercer sighed, taking a moment before standing up slowly. He had taken a few steps away when he suddenly stopped and said. "Vex, I'd almost forgotten in all this nonsense. Maven has given us a job, a job you'll be perfect for." And with that Vex's eyes lit up and left the room with the Guild Master, leaving the three men behind.

"This isn't your fault, Bryn." Delvin said after a small silence. Thrynn frowned.

"What? Of course it is! You know what he did to her." He retorted.

"And you know why." Delvin snapped back. "He was tryin' to humble the girl for her own good, her bloody pride was puttin' her in danger, and now thanks to her little stint she finally is." Brynjolf silently sat between the bickering two, trying not to listen. His feelings of immense guilt and regret were making it hard for him to breathe.

"Well she doesn't show any signs of arrogance to me. All she does is teach spells to Cynric and Etienne, goof around and heal Vipir, and have her spirit crushed by Brynjolf. She even listens to Etienne talk about his gods damned books." Thrynn spat. "You guys didn't see it, but yesterday on the docks Maul was talking about "going after" Isobel and Dirge tried to shut him up. Dirge got the shit kicked out of him but Isobel healed his face before anyone could see him wounded, I was there."

"And she also threatens Tonilia, hisses at Vex and constantly challenges Mercer's authority to his face!" Delvin retorted. "Just because she plays nurse and is everyone's bestest buddy doesn't mean she's not a danger!"

"Your her friend too! She always chats with you when Vex is out!"

"Because I want to keep an eye on her! Mercer is right, she's accumulated a little army for herself and she's on top of it. She's half the age of almost everyone here and you've already made her queen! You think Mercer is going to overlook that?! A new leader in his own Guild!?" Delvin shouted fiercely.

"Do you even know her story?! About how she became a thief? There are reasons why she can't accept failure, and why she cares for us!" Thrynn yelled.

"SHUT UP THRYNN!" Brynjolf bellowed as he put pressure on his eyes.

"No, tell us." Delvin said softly, his quiet tone strange after the array of shouting before. And when Thrynn finished telling the two about the murder of her jester family, her experience of being a homeless child on the streets of the Imperial City, of how she was found by the Guild and how they trained and healed her, Brynjolf felt a wave of realization. It made so much sense, her skill and knowledge despite her youth, her unbreakable pride and stubbornness, all because she was at the bottom of the barrel and climbed herself up to the top. The way she defended Vipir from Mercer, how she messed around and played with her fellow thieves, why she always listened to them, was all because her Guild did that for her and it was all she ever knew.

"We need to go find her." Brynjolf said, remembering that she was out in the dangerous roads of Skyrim.

"No." Thrynn said simply. "We let her go and do what she set out to do." Delvin nodded silently in agreement.

"If something happens to her-"

"Since when did you start caring about her?!" Thrynn slammed his fist on the table. "_You _of all people know she can defend herself, she's not a damsel in distress." Brynjolf knew he was right but he still felt helpless and in need of making up for his brutality towards her.

"She'll be back." Delvin sighed. "Until then, we need to calm down the boys. Let 'em know we've got it under control."

"Do we actually, Delvin?" Brynjolf said.

"Aye, we do." He answered and stood up, Thrynn followed his lead.

"When she comes back, you _better _shield her from Mercer. The guys and I can only do so much, and if you fail her again you'll have to answer to me." He whispered after Delvin wasn't in ear-shot.

"You do realize you just threatened the Second in Command of the Thieves Guild, lad." Brynjolf growled, staring up into Thrynn's hazel eyes. "You watch yourself, Isobel may have you wrapped around her little finger, but I don't bend to the whims of little girls so easily. You best remember that." Thrynn gave Brynjolf a scowl before taking off.

Brynjolf put his head in his hands, wincing from his headache. Isobel was shaking the Guild. And there was nothing he could do but let it quake.


	19. Chapter 19: A Thief in a Palace of Kings

"You come here when you're not wanted. You eat our food, you pollute our city with your stink, and you refuse to help the Stormcloaks!"

Isobel was still trying to take in the city sights before her, but it wasn't much. The towering walls that formed the streets and alleys were so tall and large that no other buildings could be seen over their height, leaving Isobel feeling trapped and claustrophobic in the dark. The only notable structure she could see was the inn directly across from her. Warm light flowed from its windows, and music and banter could be heard even at her distance The streets were devoid of any civilians, save for a beggar woman seeking warmth by the inn's doors and a group Isobel couldn't quite make out in the shadows.

"But we haven't taken a side because it's not our fight!" Isobel heard the sound of a woman's voice and focused her hearing on its source. Upon further inspection she saw what looked like a Dunmer woman and two male Nords arguing in a shady corner.

"Hey, maybe the reason these gray-skins don't help in the war is because they're Imperial Spies!" Said a Nord in dirty rags. Isobel tensed up, she knew some Nords were notorious for being racist and violent, but if they were going to start trouble she didn't want to get involved and blow her cover.

"Imperial Spies? You can't be serious!"Isobel could see the woman's crimson-red eyes widening even in the dark.

"Maybe we'll pay you a visit tonight, little spy. We have ways of finding out who you really are." The second Nord said sinisterly as he took a step forward.

"Hey! Leave the Dunmer alone!" Isobel shouted, trying to make her voice seem lower and more brute. The three looked at her with confused expressions on their faces.

"This is none of your business." A Nord growled, his accent so thick Isobel had to strain to hear what he said. "You, of all people, should be defendin' our proud city from this filth, not the other way around." Isobel took a few steps forward, trying not to get too close.

"It's late, you shouldn't be prowling amongst the streets at this time of night. It may make a guard..._.suspicious_." Isobel slowly clasped the hilt of her sword, making sure the Nords got the message. With a scoff and a threatening look they both turned.

"Just wait til my brother hears about this, he's Ulfric's right hand man. He'll not be so pleased as to hear his kin has been heckled by a guard under his command." One of the two grumbled as they took off. The Dunmer woman turned to face Isobel and was about the speak when Isobel quickly put her fingers to her lips.

"This never happened." She whispered, and the Dunmer nodded her head as Isobel slowly continued to Ulfric's palace. The ground wasn't covered with snow, it was instead a dirty, blackened slush that made the city even more unsightly, and even though the crisp air was _mostly _clean, Isobel could smell a slight odor of sewage emitting from the east.

She walked north through the dark streets, the Jarl's Keep looking even bigger and grimmer as she grew closer, entering its lifeless courtyard with her breath growing heavier. This was the point of no return, she may very well die if she was caught. So she simply pressed forward as she's always done, nearly jumping out of her skin as a guard approached her from behind.

"Frida! Heading back inside already?" Isobel's mind and body froze.

_'Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.'_

"The day shift isn't heading out for another four hours." Slowly Isobel turned to face the Nord man, and spoke, making her voice as nasally and raspy as she could.

"I just need to grab a quick tonic."

"By the Nine! You sound like a troll raped your mouth!" He exclaimed as he took a step back.

"I felt it coming on yesterday morning, but it just hit me hard about an hour ago...I can barely breath so I'm gonna take a small potion to clear it up. I'm completely useless if trouble were to break out while I'm like this."

"Of course, Frida, of course. You go in, I won't tell anyone your off your watch but hurry back, I don't want Stone-Fist sniffing around like some bear in heat if he hears a guard is off watch."

"Thanks." She coughed underneath her helmet as a watchmen opened a palace door for her with a nod. To her relief the interior was far more welcoming that the castle's exterior, it was well lit with rich blue tapestries lining the walls and long blue professionally weaved rugs leading up to the majestic throne across the foyer. Two guards stood on either side on the door, Isobel could feel them watching her back curiously as she struggled to deduce which of the hallways and doors lining the stone walls would lead to the Jarl's bed chambers.

She walked briskly up towards the throne, past an extremely long table filled with fine silverware and expensive looking wine bottles, she could still smell the ghosts of venison and sweet rolls that must've been eaten there a few hours before. She reached the throne, a huge stone structure that met the tall ceiling. A shield with the Stormcloak's symbol of a bear hung above the powerful seat, and Isobel felt herself grow even more tense in its presence.

She looked to the hallway on her right, seeing that it headed below, probably to the kitchens, and eliminated its possibility of leading to Ulfric. Instead, the open door to her left looked like it led to a large room, and she could make out a large table with a map on it.

_'It must be the room they plan their attacks in.'_ She thought as she made her way through the doorway. She was right, red and blue flags dated the map of Skyrim as papers and letters sprawled over the table. Isobel saw yet another door and peeked inside.

She felt her spirits lift as a steep set of stairs rose before her, and quickly entered and ascended them with absolute silence. A sharp left turn awaited her at the top, leading her down a very long narrow hallway, doors lining each side. With her chin held high and her back straight, she marched down the corridor, passing the occasional guard with a nod of her head. The hallway seemed to go on forever, the same pattern of stone and black doors lining the close walls repeating over and over as Isobel sped past. At the end she was met with yet another tall staircase, and walking up more softly, was met with a large guard standing in front of a very special looking door.

"Frida?" He grunted. He didn't have a helmet on, showing off his heavily scarred and war painted face."What in Oblivion are you doing up here?" But Isobel thought of the Dragons Tongue cigars a friend in Cyrodiil always made and slammed her green glowing palm into his chest, his expression immediately pacified. She couldn't waste any time now, she was being timed and if her spell wore off while she was in Ulfric's chambers she would be in _big_ trouble. Cursing herself for panicking and using a spell instead of a silent takedown, she hastily yet quietly opened the door to the Jarl's Quarters.

Sure enough, there slept Ulfric Stormcloak himself, sleeping under the covers in a large, raised bed in the middle of the rich, luxurious room. The first thing Isobel noticed as she shut the door behind her was the fact that there were no windows large enough to escape through, meaning she had to tear through all the guards in the corridors if she had to make a run for it. She was entering what her friend Brutus called "the crunch."

"Crunch time, Issy." He would always say to her whenever they needed to make a fast getaway.

The inside of her helmet was humid from her hot breath, but her years of experience told her to calm down, and she felt her body heat cool. Clearing her mind, she focused on Ulfric, forgetting that he was a war hero with the power to shout her apart the way he had King Torygg or that there was another large brute waiting outside for her. For now, Ulfric was just another target and nothing special.

Silent even in her heavy gear, she crept to his bedside, looking at the middle-aged Jarl as he scowled in his sleep. He looked just as he did all that time ago at Helgen, and Isobel remembered when she first saw him as she hid behind a pine tree, terrified at what she now knew was the Thu'um that erupted from his lips. She never would've guessed that in little less than a month she'd be leaning over his sleeping frame.

Sure enough, a chain could be seen circling his thick neck and leading under his nightshirt. With the tenderness of a loving mother her hands pulled down his shirt softly, not causing the slightest flinch in his slumber. Isobel could see the pendant now, the bronze cross with beautiful curves and carvings, she just needed to find the clasp.

A bead of sweat rolled down her forehead as she pulled the chain around Ulfric's throat ever so softly until the clasp emerged from under his dirty blonde hair. With deft hands she undid it and picked up the pendant, using her free hand to guide the chain around his throat without moving too hastily. Suddenly he twitched and rolled over with a guttural growl. Isobel nearly urinated in fright, but looking she saw the pendant still in her hand, its chain dangling through her fingers. When Ulfric rolled over he basically gave it to her.

Keeping herself from sighing in relief as she pocketed the amulet, she slowly stood up and made for the door, giving one final look at Ulfric before exiting the chambers. Upon exiting she recast her spell on the guard, causing him to hum contently as she fled the down the steps and down the hallways. She needed to get out. Now.

Isobel was in the grand entrance hall when shouts could be heard from the floors above, causing her to panic. Great booming and stomping feet could be heard through the layers of stone, gradually getting louder and there was no telling which way they were going.

_ 'Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit'_ She was screaming internally. _'Ulfric is awake now, he'll notice it's gone. That guard saw me in his room. I need to leave.'_ Suddenly a wizened old man emerged from a door close to her.

"What in Oblivion is going on up there?" He asked, his voice gruff and aged. He was wearing mage's cloaks, and Isobel knew what she had to do instead.

"The Jarl needs you up to his chambers!" She spoke as his eyes widened. He hurried off, gesturing the guards at the main doors of the palace to follow him as Isobel flew through the door the old man just exited. That was the court mage, it had to be, which meant his quarters were somewhere within the hallways he just left. Vipir's oils had to be there.

"Ulfric's in trouble!" She yelled at the guards staring her as she sprinted down the corridors looking for the mage's room, sending the hallways into a frenzy as she ran against the tide of men and women on their way to the Jarl's side. She scanned each doorway as she blazed past, sweat was pouring down her face now, the heat underneath her helmet making it hard to breath. At the very end of the hall she saw what had to be an enchanting table and charged toward it.

The room was filled with jars, bowls and bottles of grotesque looking ingredients and mixtures. Books and tomes lined rows and rows of shelves and the air was perfumed with smoky incense that burned on the night stand. She flew to a shelf filled with potions, they were disorganized and the handwriting on each bottles was messy. She pushed them around hastily as her hands started to shake, the whole castle was starting to swell with shouts and pounding.

She couldn't find anything that even looked remotely close to Blue Darthwing Oils, and was about to give up and leave before she saw a shelf that was specifically labeled 'Healing.'

_'Gods damn you Isobel, keep it fucking together._' She thought as she pounced to her new target, scrounging around she almost screamed when she saw 5 bottles with 'Blue Darthwing Oil' written poorly on their labels, the clear-blue liquid bobbing around inside. She snatched all five, shoving them in her pockets as she tried to make sure they didn't bulge too much or clink together when she walked.

She marched out of the room, vaguely calmer now knowing she just had to exit the city, but knowing she still wasn't off the hook. Once she re-entered the entrance hall, she found it packed, with a man in bear furs standing by the throne, bellowing orders at the top of his lungs. She noticed a small female guard beside that man, hands bound with her blue cuirass reaching past her knees.

_'Sorry, Frida._' Isobel thought as she merged with a group of guards leaving the Palace.

All Isobel had to do was march with the group until they were out of the courtyard. She then slipped into the shadows, separating from the city as it woke with each stomp of a guard's boot in the black slush. The whole of Windhelm was up that night, Isobel could still hear the distant shouts as she climbed to her mountain perch, throwing off her helmet and breathing in beautiful fresh air.

She collapsed onto her back, unable to move from exhaustion as her adrenaline decreased, her face still caked with mud. She put her hand in her pocket and brought out the prized necklace by the chain, holding it up against the night sky. Steam blew out of her mouth as she laughed in relief and triumph, watching the bronze pendant sway above her.

Brynjolf was going to look stupid.


	20. Chapter 20: Isobel's Return

Brynjolf was at Mercer's desk, counting a pitiful satchel of coin and gems that Niruin had managed to nab from a house out in Solitude. The elf had just gotten back that afternoon, shame on his face as he passed off his meager offerings to Vex. Vex, who was bed-ridden with a smashed shoulder and a swollen black eye.

The job Mercer had placed upon her was nothing short of complicated. Maven Black-Briar, the Guild's most important client and owner of the prestigious Black-Briar Meadery, had called upon Mercer with her trademark fury. She had received a letter from her partner, Aringoth, at Goldenglow Estate informing her that their business deal was off, denying Maven honey for her mead. This effected the Guild as well, as a good chunk of their income came from keeping Aringoth in line and chasing off any potential competitors, and with their desperate state that meant they were in big trouble.

So Mercer sent Vex in to infiltrate the bee farm with the objective of giving Aringoth a loud and clear message via cleaning out his safe of valuables and burning down three of his bee hives. However, Vex barely made it out alive, as the Altmer had fortified the island with more than triple the guard. Last night she fell down the cistern's secret entrance, the side of her face swollen and bleeding beyond recognizable and her left arm limp. Upon further inspection it was concluded that she had a broken shoulder, delivered by a war hammer that she had barely dodged. Mercer then decided that Vex needed Vipir's bone-mending oils more than he did and confiscated them for Vex.

Brynjolf sighed as he looked at Vex, sitting upright in her bed and scowling off into the distance. There was a time when she wasn't so venomous, a time where they got along and shared a few tender moments. But as time went on she became more and more hardened and desensitized as the pressure of the Guild bared down on her, her beautiful face becoming shadowed and stony. The price to pay for having great skill amongst her peers. His train of thought was broken by Dirge bursting through the cistern door, a wild look in his eyes.

"Isobel! Isobel's in the Flagon! Isobel's here!" He bellowed, his voice cracking from rarely being in use. Everyone in the room straightened up.

"She's here?! She's okay!?" Cynric shouted back as he bolted out of his cot.

"Yeah, yeah! She's fine! C'mon!"

Brynjolf's stomach clenched as he sped out from behind his desk, following the rest of the boys out of the cistern when he noticed that Vex had stood up with a grimace.

"No Vex. You stay in-"

"I want to be in on this." She muttered as she cradled her injured arm in its splint.

Brynjolf was feeling beyond nervous as he made for the open mead cabinet, this would be the first time he would be facing Isobel after their fight four days ago, and he was concerned of how Mercer was going to handle her return. And as he entered the packed Flagon and parted the crowd, he saw the girl standing at Delvin's table as he turned over something in his hands. When she caught sight of Brynjolf in the sea of men she nearly jumped in the air.

"Brynjolf!" She cried. Her face was caked in mud and rosy from sunburn, and her hair stuck in every which way. "Look! Look what I got for you!" She snatched whatever was in Delvin's hands and ran to Brynjolf, showing him a smile he had never seen on her face before as she panted heavily. She looked like a child bringing a gift for a parent, waiting bright eyed and hopeful for approval, and without him helping it the corners of his mouth slightly turned upward. "Look." She grabbed his hand and placed a necklace into its palm.

"An amulet of Talos, lass?" Brynjolf asked as he held up her prize, questioning her hype and excitement. He could hear the crowd around them whisper in confusion as well.

"Not just any amulet of Talos." Delvin said as he pushed through and stood at Isobel's side. "Ulfric's amulet of Talos." Brynjolf's gaze snapped back at Isobel's beaming face that was begging him for praise.

"Where did you get it?" He asked.

"From his neck."

Brynjolf could feel the room raise their eyebrows with him and heard Niruin scoff. There was no way she could be serious, to steal from Ulfric would be...

"It's the highest quality I've ever seen. The steel is perfect, probably tempered at the Skyforge by Eorlund Gray-Mane himself. And see here." Delvin said, pointing to the inscription on the back of the pendant. "These symbols are Draconian, the 'dragon alphabet' so to speak. I don't know what they mean, the only people who do have studied with the Greybeards...which Ulfric has."

Brynjolf swallowed, he trusted Delvin's knowledge on such items, but this was impressive to the point of being unbelievable. He squinted into Isobel's eyes, trying to read her expression to see if there was any trace of a lie but he could see nothing but her grin.

"I got a hold of Windhelm Guard armor and went inside the Palace of the Kings. I was able to make my way to his chambers and plucked it right off his thick neck as he slept! Oh!" Isobel took off her backpack, scanning the crowd. "Vipir! I got some more oils for you, it's still not enough, but I hope it'll help." She opened it up as Vipir approached, still pale and gaunt as he gingerly stepped forward. He looked inside and smiled.

"Thank you, Issy." He said as she handed him the bag.

"I only wish I could get the rest." She said and turned back to Brynjolf, still awaiting his verdict. He wasn't sure if it was the most ideal time but he wanted to apologize to her in front of the whole Guild.

"Isobel, I-" But he was interrupted by a glass dagger reaching out from behind him and pointing at Isobel's throat. Isobel's army all grabbed their weapons and stepped forward but she raised her hand at them to stop as Vex crept out into the open, her snarl as vicious as ever. Brynjolf could see Isobel was slightly taken a back from Vex's injuries, which made her twisted face even more menacing. "Vex, back off!" He shouted.

"Let me make one thing perfectly clear, princess." She spat, pressing her dagger upon Isobel's flesh. Brynjolf felt his jaw twitch as he made to try to pull Vex away, to disregard her injury and throw her back, but Isobel shot him a look that told him '_no_'. "I'm the best infiltrator this fucking rat-hole of a Guild's got, so if you think you're here to replace me, you're wrong. _Dead_ wrong." Before any of the men could respond to Vex's threat Isobel retorted.

"Vex. I know magic that would make you feel such hopelessness and despair that you would slit your own throat while I pop open a bottle of champagne and watch you bleed away. You point this thing at me again, and I'll slit it for you." Brynjolf felt uneasy at Isobel's sudden change, she was no longer the happy child, for her stare could scare wolves and resembled the foreboding glare of regal righteousness. How appropriate it was for her to remind him of royalty as her minions closed in on Vex and yanked her back, causing her to scream in agony as Dirge clasped her shoulder.

"Oh Vex." A voice startled the group, causing them to stop. Nobody had noticed that Mercer sat at a nearby table, watching the drama unfold with keen interest. "Always so insecure." Isobel took the amulet out of Brynjolf's hand by the chain and she sped over to Mercer's table, placing it in front of him.

"It doesn't look like much, but it'll fetch a good price. Delvin already said he knows a few people who would pay big for it." Brynjolf took his place at Isobel's side, wanting to stay close to her as Thrynn followed, watching him with a close eye.

"This is quite the remarkable feat." Mercer said. "I imagine we'll be hearing the gossip fly across Skyrim? That the "true High King" has had his favourite toy taken away?" Isobel nodded her head. "Good...You think Gray Fox would like to possess the trophy one of his own worked so hard for?"

"Possibly. But it's not the first thing I've gotten for him that was equal, if not more, in value." Brynjolf could sense her arrogance swell with each word she spoke, confirming his lessons to be entirely in vain.

"It's always good to hear that my fellow Guild Masters have such loyal servants, such as the ones you've accumulated here." Mercer nodded to the group of men as he swung the amulet on his finger. "But I'm sure if you slept with it between your legs for a few nights Fox would be glad to buy it from us. He probably misses you warming his bed." Brynjolf instantly placed a hand on Isobel's shoulder, hoping she would keep her composure against the Guild Master's taunts. Regardless he felt her tense up.

"I am not Gray Fox's bitch." She said through clenched teeth.

"Well, you definitely seem to be of his caliber." Mercer smirked back. "I'm not trying to be rude, I'm just wondering if any gray pups are going to pop out of you soon." That's when both Brynjolf and Thrynn had to grab onto her before she could pounce over the table.

"Isobel, stop!" Thrynn hissed. "He's just pushing you." Brynjolf stepped in front of her, trying to shield her as he pushed her back.

"Look at you, so small yet so fierce... ugly too, so much like a little imp." Mercer smiled, loving the reaction he was getting.

There was nothing the crowd could do but watch awkwardly as Isobel's struggle continued, putting up a fair enough fight against the two strong Nords as she growled and grunted. Vex was one thing but no one dared to try shutting up the Guild Master, although Brynjolf was starting to feel himself grow angry himself at Mercer's shameless insults.

"Gray Fox's manhood must be small if it's to fit in you-"

"HE'S MY BROTHER!" Her screech echoed in off the wet, stone walls. The room all stared in shock for several moments. Tonilia whispered something to Vekel behind the bar, Vipir dropped his backpack and Brynjolf froze on the spot.

"I thought your brother was murdered." Thrynn said, pulling Isobel from Brynjolf and leaning down to match her height. "You said he was dead."

"No, I said my baby brother was dead." Isobel clasped her hand over her eyes and clenched her teeth, sighing exasperatedly.

"Why would you lie to us?" Thrynn continued.

"Because the Gray Fox isn't supposed to have a previous history." Mercer said quietly. "His name, his family, his past, all become erased."

"As soon as he put that gray cowl on his head three years ago I never had an older brother." Isobel's voice was cracking as she still shielded her eyes. "I just broke an oath to never reveal Gray Fox's past to anyone, I'm supposed to forget it myself...fuck me."

Mercer paused for a moment, Brynjolf could see he was thinking fiercely, and prayed what would come out of his mouth next wouldn't be harsh. Instead Mercer smiled and, casting a glance at the weakened Vex, turned to Isobel. "I think I have a job you'll be perfect for."

Brynjolf's heart sunk as Isobel's lifted.

* * *

It was after Mercer finished briefing Isobel on her new mission and her deep wash in the lake that she returned to the cistern, being greeted by hard slaps on the back and rough noogies in a fresh pair of breeches and a plain tunic. Niruin, Vipir, Etienne, Cynric and Thrynn all lead her to the table, bottles of golden mead glistening at her.

"So Issy, you better indulge us in all the glorifying details of that quaint little heist you pulled off." Cynric cheered as he popped open a bottle and handed it to Isobel.

"And don't leave out any details!" Vipir exclaimed before clutching his chest in pain.

"Am I going to have to continue our healing sessions, Vipir?" Isobel asked, noticing his discomfort.

"Probably, considering Mercer took away his oils for Vex." Thrynn grumbled before he took a swig of mead.

"He WHAT!?" Isobel yelled but Etienne clasped his hands over her mouth, the group looking over to Mercer's desk where he and Brynjolf appeared to be in a deep conversation. They stopped for a moment to cast a quizzical glance at the table, but continued their heated discussion.

"Quiet. He's given them to Vex to heal her injuries. I trust he told you how she got them during your chat with him?" Etienne said as he pulled back his hands. Isobel was still fuming.

"Yeah, I'm assigned with her job now."

"You think you can handle it?" Niruin asked skeptically. "Vex couldn't do it, and she _is_ one of the best infiltrators here."

"I know I can." Isobel said valiantly. "I broke into the future High King of Skyrim's bedchambers and plucked a pretty piece of jewellery off him, didn't I?" And with a wide grin she told the tale of her adventure in Windhelm. How she bound the guard and the old woman at the farm and how she took on the alias Frida, much to the dismay of actual Frida. She was halfway telling of searching for the Blue Darthwing Oils when Brynjolf passed by the table.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I need to speak with you, lass. You can come back right after, it won't be long." He said, the cistern had grown dark and his Nord features were only illuminated by the flickering candles on the table. Isobel suddenly felt nervous, she had been so excited to speak to Brynjolf upon her return but now she felt nauseas.

"Where do you want to talk?" Isobel said anxiously as she stood, keeping her bottle with her.

"It won't be long, you can just rest on your bed." Brynjolf shrugged, Isobel noticed how he and Thrynn seemed to lock stares for a moment. Brynjolf led her to her cot, and she sat leaning against the headboard. Brynjolf continued to stand but Isobel gestured for him to sit as she put her cold feet under the covers and took a sip of her mead. They just looked at each other a bit, Isobel feeling confused and Brynjolf awkward. Isobel felt that her tunic was slightly damp at the base of her neck, most likely from the drips of her freshly washed hair. She tried to move it so the wet cloth wasn't against her skin, for it somehow made her feel even more stressed.

"So uh...Gray Fox is your brother?" Brynjolf said nervously as leaned on his elbows.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Isobel said with a stern stare. "I _don't_ have an older brother." She saw Brynjolf look a little put down and defeated.

"I understand." Brynjolf nodded his head, Isobel growing more and more puzzled as to why he seemed so uncomfortable. Another awkward silence enveloped them, both of them knowing the boys at the faraway table were watching them.

"Are you mad that I took off?" Isobel finally said, keeping her voice quiet.

"I was more scared than mad, lass." He answered in a hushed tone, causing Isobel to frown.

"Why?" But he didn't answer her question.

"I just want to apologize for the way I treated you the past few weeks." He said softly. "I hope you understand my intentions were true, but I went about it the wrong way. You understand, right lass?"

"No. Not really." Isobel said, nursing her drink. Brynjolf sighed and hung his head. "You wanted me to back down, but someone as sly and charming as you should know how to make people do what you want them to without physical force." Brynjolf just stared at her, Isobel could tell he was thinking profusely.

"You honestly still view me as being charming?" He scoffed.

"Yes." Isobel said simply, making Brynjolf turn away from her slightly. "Brynjolf you're a crook, being charming is a part of the job description. Next time you want me to bend to you, become my friend first. I happily roll over in defeat to the ones I care about." Isobel mumbled, barely audible.

"I'm sorry for hurting you Isobel." Brynjolf said after a few moments, his voice tense.

"It's okay, I need my ass kicked once in awhile." She said as Brynjolf gave her a half-hearted smile. He made to get up but Isobel didn't want him to leave.

"That amulet wasn't the only thing I stole while I was out." She blurted and reached for her filthy armor on the ground beside her bed. From one of her pockets she pulled out the amethyst. Brynjolf's green eyes lit up as he chuckled. He made to reach for it but Isobel closed her fist and pulled back. "No no no, this is mine now." She said with a coy smirk. Brynjolf smiled at her, that same smile he gave her all those weeks ago at the marketplace, making Isobel's spirit soar.

"Still just as quick as a whip, aren't you lass?" He grinned, his voice no longer heavy or strained. "I suppose that's the reason I dragged you into this shit house." Isobel surprised herself by not screaming in delight at those words. Brynjolf could see her joy seeping through the light in her eyes and started chuckling again at her star struck face, causing Isobel to titter lightly, making him snicker even more before they both cracked up fully and burst into laughter, all while still trying to be discreet. Isobel was trying so hard to be quiet yet belched loudly from her mead, the burp mixing into her cackling as Brynjolf laughed harder.

Perhaps they were laughing in relief, knowing that the wall of tension between them had finally collapsed, or maybe it was simply the way two kindred spirits met together, like two dogs fresh off a leash as they barked and wagged tails at each other.

* * *

Thrynn sat across the cistern, not listening to Niruin tell of his near arrest in Solitude as he stared at the two on Isobel's bed, growling underneath his breath as they chortled in secret like children during worship.

* * *

Ulfric Stormcloak was on his throne, his swelled chest somewhat smaller, his usually proud face now soft and blank. A man in bear fur approached him.

"I've already arranged the new helmet design for our guards, their faces will no longer be concealed. I've also sent a few more south to patrol the roads and sent word to Jarl Laila Law-Giver and Skald the Elder to keep a lookout as well. We'll hunt down that Imperial bitch and-"

"She's not an Imperial, Galmar." Ulfric interrupted, his rich, deep voice filling the throne room. "Had she been the woman and guard at Hlaalu farm wouldn't have been spared... And I killed."

"She could be Forsworn. They said she had the stature of a Breton."

"Again, if she had been, the two _Nords_ at Hlaalu farm would not have been spared and I killed."

"Who else would want Ulfric Stormcloak's amulet of Talos? The very symbol of our cause?" Galmar said, his guttural voice matching his scowl. "If not the Imperials or Thalmor, who?"

"I don't know Galmar. All I know is that they succeeded in making a proud Nord feel naked and vulnerable." Ulfric said sadly. "That amulet was the last gift my father gave to me before he died, before I took to Markarth. I wore it when I drove out the Forsworn Rebellion, when I killed False King Torygg, and every day in between."

"We _will_ find it Ulfric." Galmar insisted. "But we cannot become weakened, for the sake of Skyrim. The Imperials may have done this to soften you, but that is not the Ulfric I know. Amulet or no, you will take the Throne and drive out the elves. It matters not what lies around your neck." Ulfric nodded.

"I know it's foolish to send capable warriors in search of a necklace when they could be put to better use. I must not dote of it. I must not be so selfish. But if they do find whoever took it, no matter their reasons, I will show them no mercy." Ulfric suddenly clenched his jaw.

"That is all we can hope Ulfric, that is all we can hope."

* * *

**A/N: So, in regards to Isobel's relation to Gray Fox. I have never played Oblivion, but I researched the Thieves Guild questline from it as much as I could in an attempt to understand what the Guild was like in Cyrodiil. I still may not have gotten it right...in fact I probably didn't get it right, but for the sake of this story the curse Nocturnal had placed upon the Gray Cowl was lifted by the Hero but the Guild continued to keep the identity of the Fox secret in the name of tradition. Whereas before when once the cowl was placed upon the Fox's head he was erased from history, now the past of the newer Fox's merely are kept secret by oath in attempt to keep his mystery and prestige alive.**

**I apologize if this rubs a few people the wrong way. Isobel will, in time, reveal more of her life in her home Guild, so hopefully if you stick around things would make more sense.**

**I also want to thank EVERYBODY who has reviewed/faved/followed and viewed. Simply seeing the view bar go up makes me smile, so thank you whoever is out there reading this shit, it does mean a lot. :)**

**I also changed the Cover Image, I hope that didn't mess up too many people...**

**...okbye**


	21. Chapter 21: Goldenglow

The days of cloudy weather had finally come to a head and it was raining hard, making the surface of Lake Honrich vibrate with millions of ripples. Isobel could see the brightly lit windows of the Goldenglow Estate out beyond the blackened haze as she stood on the rocking docks.

"You don't have to do this, lass." Brynjolf said beside her.

"Stop doubting me."

"Listen, Mercer finds out you're more than a common thief, your brother is Gray Fox and that half the Guild is under your influence and suddenly he's giving you missions our senior members couldn't handle? He's threatened by you, he wants to knock you off!"

"I'm not stupid Brynjolf, I know he wants me gone. I just want to spite him."

"Then you are stupid. Mercer isn't a force to reckon with, you can't-" Brynjolf was cut off as Isobel dove off the docks. "What in Oblivion are you doing?!" He shouted when her head emerged from the water.

"I'd get wet on the way there away. Besides, it beats walking up right up to their fucking door!" Isobel started to wade away, fighting against the current.

"Well, I'm waiting right here til you come back!" He yelled but Isobel didn't respond, and all Brynjolf could do was watch her swim and make sure her black hood didn't become submerged in the waves too long.

* * *

Mercer said there was an unguarded entrance on the south side of the island, but as she drew closer she noticed the south side of the estate was fortified heavily, and upon reaching the banks right beside the docks, she saw an entrance atop a steep drop-off on the _north_. Scowling at Mercer's pettiness Isobel approached the cliff, placing a hand on its smooth stone and tracing out a trail amongst its cracks and crevices. It was going to be a hard climb, but she couldn't see any other way to reach the top.

Shaking the water out of her eyes she began to ascend, struggling against the smooth stone as she gripped with her fingertips. Isobel probably wouldn't have made it up the cliff if she wasn't so small, she had to basically shimmy along the wet rocks on her tip toes all while trying to fight against the pounding rain. Slowly and excruciatingly she neared the top, and once she was marginally close she pulled herself up, panting heavily as she crawled quickly to the wall beside the door to catch her breath.

Leaning against the house and away from the open she discreetly healed her cramping fingers, making sure the light didn't attract any attention. Once her breathing was regular and her body more or less ready she sat up and examined the door lock.

_'Show that dumb bitch who's the infiltrator here_.' She thought of Vex at that very spot, rotating the pick carefully as Isobel was doing now. '_Can't wait to see her face when she sees me stroll back into the Flagon_.' With that satisfying image in her head, Isobel heard the click and opened the door a crack to hear if the coast was clear.

She couldn't hear anything over the rain and had to gamble and peek her eye in. It was clear, so she quickly crept inside and shut the door before anyone could hear the storm outside. The manor was rich and warm, with mahogany furniture and expensive looking trinkets covering every table, desk and shelf. The manor was also silent, to her disappointment, which meant she had to be just as quiet. She started to inch her way down the main hallway, noticing her armor was dripping from the swim.

_'Fuck._' Isobel cursed. She brought her arms in close and crouched even lower to the ground, trying to mute the small splashes by lessening their distance from the ground. She admired her Guild boots though, they were soaking wet but didn't emit a single squeak, they must've been enchanted. As graceful as she could in her awkward stance she moved forward, hugging the wall and using her mirror to check each corner.

She had to find the stairs to the basement, that's where the safe was. She had turned a corner from a dining area to see an iron gate that obviously led to the level below, and set her eyes to the keyhole like a bird of prey. Her ears told her that two mercenaries were nearby though, two different voices in conversation.

"There was no way this deck would have two of the same fucking cards! I know you had that ace up for sleeve!"

"Chill out, you oaf. I know it was you, you've done this before."

"Oh? Tsun tell you that?_ You_ of all people know his parents were siblings, he's probably got stuff wrong with his fat head-"

Isobel peeked around the corner, the two men were out of eye sight so she grabbed a pick and pounced on the lock. She was already opening the door and closing it behind her when she heard the sound of a solid punch followed by chairs crashing on the wooden floors.

The basement was full of boxes and crates of sweet-smelling merchandise. Isobel managed to slip by two more mercenaries without raising the slightest suspicion and continued down a hallway. The first thing she noticed was the excess of oil that formed puddles all the way down the corridor and into an open area ahead, and was slightly disheartened to see a man sitting on a chair with view full of the room. Luckily, he was sitting facing away from her, but there was no way she could slip by him. She had to face him.

So she closed her eyes and thought of home. Of sitting at a oak table by the fire with Gray Fox and Odette, and Brutus and Silas and so many others, all sharing apricot brandy, smoking cigars and telling anecdotes. She thought of the soft beds in her Guild, the rich, wooden smell of her room and the way J'raska always groomed her hair. Gathering all those emotions she guided them down into her right hand, and slowly started to approach the guard. When she placed her glowing green hand on his shoulder he didn't even flinch.

"Hello, buddy." Isobel chimed, walking into his eyesight. "Mind if I take a quick peek down those stairs?" She asked, gesturing to the wooden steps behind her that led to yet another level below. He smiled sweetly and nodded, giving her a thumbs up, and in a moment of inspiration she added. "And tell your boss that the Guild has a new secret weapon. Me."

"Sure thing, friend."

"Good boy." She pinched his cheek and took off down the stairs. She smirked as she thought of how he would try to explain letting a thief waltz right past him towards a safe, but she knew she only had a few minutes before the spell wore off and had to hurry. Luckily for her, the safe was right at the bottom of those stairs. She took a few strong breaths before inserting her pick into the narrow opening. Safes were always the hardest to crack, for obvious reasons. Isobel started to grow nervous after her first two picks broke against the firm tumblers, glancing up to the top of the stairs.

"Come on, sweetheart." She whispered, finding the tender spot and slowly rotating the lock. The safe door swung open with a tiny squeak, revealing that all was inside was a letter. Isobel knew well that papers with seals often led to more riches than nought and quickly enveloped the precious paper in a leather satchel and pocketed it, closing the safe and moving on. She spotted a trap door in the floor and heaved it open only to retch at the smell. It lead to the sewers, and was probably where the manor's residents emptied out their chamber pots.

Isobel cursed to herself as she threw her feet over the edge and pushed off. She landed in a puddle of urine and feces, and pulling her hood in front of her mouth to try and mask the smell, made way to a nearby ladder that had to lead to the surface. She had to push sewer gate open with both hands, and as Isobel squeezed through the gap into the pouring rain, lightning lit up the entire sky with a crackling boom.

To her utter disgust, the unguarded door she had so painstakingly climbed to was right beside her.

_'Fuck Mercer._' She thought furiously. _'He knew that there was a sewer gate here. This thing probably had tunnels all over the fucking island.'_

Driven with even more anger and grit to spite the Guild Master she crept so the side of the house, trying to judge where the bee hives were. Isobel had to spit water out of her mouth as it cascaded down her face. As glad as she was that the heavy rain and thunder were enough to cover up any sounds she made, she knew she was going to have a hard time locating the hives. Hell, would they even stay alight in this rain?

She had no choice but to move on, she would make sure those hives burned to the ground if it meant pissing off Mercer and bringing glory to the Guild. Her common sense told her the hives must be on the raised, blocked off little island adjacent from her, realizing the darkness that was concealing her was also hiding her targets. As graceful and deft as a cat's shadow she slinked through the shallow waters and under wooden bridges towards her goal, taking note that she could hardly see any of the mercenaries that had overwhelmed Vex.

She climbed up some rubble and onto the island and hid behind some barrels, straining to pinpoint any brutes she could manage to see. Another bout of thunder crunched the skies, followed by a flash that lit up the ground. Isobel caught glimpse of a small hut in a closed of area and felt a small flare of victory, but the feeling was short lived. A large man was standing right against it, seeking shelter from the rain.

Even more unfortunately, she wasn't able to see any other men, and this concerned Isobel greatly. She knew of all people that the greatest threats were the ones you couldn't see, and she grew nervous as she moved quickly on all fours towards the alcove of huts. her footsteps in the mud muted by the thick rumble of war drums rolling across the black heavens.

She wasn't good at Destruction spells, only knowing the basics in case she ever needed to disassemble a rune trap if she came across one or to quickly start a fire in situations such as these. Using arcane fire to get a blaze roaring was ten times faster than a torch or flint, and by the gods did she want to be fast. She crouched behind the first hive and eased herself to the wet earth, trying to channel her body heat (or "body fire" her tutor called it) into her hands. A small little inferno started to grow in her palms, and slowly she placed it upon the thin, papery tarp of the first hut.

The grumbling of waking bees noticed her handy work before the watchmen did, and Isobel felt the hive start to murmur in their anger.

_"Crunch time, Issy."_ Brutus' voice told her.

Clenching her teeth she brought up both hands and blasted the hive full throttle. Before the mercenary could stand up Isobel had already rolled to the next hive, sending its walls in flames.

"What in Obliv-" He bellowed as her first hive became fully engulfed and collapsed, a black, humming cloud audible even over the thick rain. Isobel felt the stab of a poison sting enter the back of her hand and yelped, but it wasn't heard over the sound of the man's yell spreading across the island like a wolf howl.

Iron boots stomping into mud grew closer as she released a loud yell and turned to her final mark, scraping up whatever magicka she had left in her to finish her job. But it wasn't much. The hive was barely alight when the fire in her hands had died and a large Nord appeared from the other side of the hut.

"There she is! We've got another one of those rats!" He barely had gotten his cry out when Isobel slammed her foot in his groin. She vaulted over him as he bent over, running towards the exit of the enclosure, another painful sting piercing her brow while more men poured into the alcove.

Retracting she flew to the other side, but soon discovered she was cornered by ten or so men. Her reflexes escalating into hyper drive and adrenaline pouring into her veins in rapids, she ducked under a mercenaries swing of a sword and used his momentum to push him into the mud, only to be knocked to the ground beside him by another's battleaxe. She grabbed her dagger while she rolled out of the path of the axe head that dug into the ground beside her. Fast as the lightning that bleached the sky again, she reached around and sliced his achilles tendon, right through his leather boots, making him crumble to the earth. She heard the wind whistle to her right and did a tuck and roll to the left, avoiding the swing of an iron sword.

She ended her roll on her feet and stood up to face the men. They stared for a moment, those fallen or injured retaking their place as they swatted and winced from bees, Isobel's blue eyes darting amongst the crowd while she shifted her weight between her feet and tilted her head from side to side. The man to her immediate left made a move, and she sidestepped the culprit's sword with a clockwise spin to her right, swinging around her dagger with all her force and slicing open his cheek.

His blood was still spraying on her face when she seized her chance of a narrow gap between men and ripped through them, sprinting all the way to the east side of the island before diving off the docks, arrows diving after her. She heard the screams of men behind her, their battle cries pushing her to swim faster than she ever had despite her exhaustion. She thought she was finally out of range until she felt a piercing stab in her outer right thigh.

She gasped, choking on water and fell underneath it's surface for a moment. Luckily for her there was a small island within a few strokes, and army crawling onto the banks, she turned over to look at her leg. Sure enough there was a steel arrow there.

Sitting up coughing she broke both ends of the arrow off, keeping what was under her skin intact. She needed to get to the cistern before she could pull it entirely out and properly deal with it, she knew that arrow was basically a cork keeping her blood in her.

Isobel took a moment to regain her breath. She looked at the Goldenglow, and while she could hear the distant commotion she couldn't see any smoke. She buried her head in her hands miserably, how could she walk into the cistern? Wounded, with a soggy letter and only two hives destroyed. Not to mention getting spotted by not one but a dozen men wasn't acceptable for a thief. Her self-pity turning into anger she forced herself to crawl into the waters again. The closest shore was to the north, and she clenched her teeth and swam forward, trying her hardest to ignore the hot, pinching sensation in her leg. With each stroke she grunted, but she managed to reach to solid ground without dying.

It took a good effort for her to finally stand up on her left leg, and taking a deep breath noticed that Riften was a good hundred feet or so away. Her frustration was only exemplified when she saw Brynjolf's silhouette rushing towards her on the stony banks.

"Isobel! You alright?" He shouted, his arm shielding himself from the rain.

"Yes!" She lied back, but Brynjolf could tell she was hurt.

"What's wrong, lass?" His eyes trailed down her body before resting on the arrow shaft that protruded from her leg. "You have an arrow in your leg." He stated.

"I know, moron." Isobel snapped curtly.

"Here." Brynjolf made to lift her up, wrapping his arm around her waist and the other behind her legs.

"No!" Isobel resisted but Brynjolf ignored her, picking her up bridal style as he made a few steps forward. "Brynjolf, fuck! Let me walk!"

"You have an arrow in your-" Isobel pushed her hands into his face.

"_Put. Me. Down_." Each word punctuated by a forceful shove, and Brynjolf finally obliged and let her down, his retort drowned out by thunder.

"Go ahead then!" He crossed his arms indignantly and nodded his chin for her to walk forward. She huffed and made for her first step, and as her wounded leg took on her weight she could feel her muscle and tissue writhe around the arrow shaft, making her attempt to stifle her cry futile.

"No. I can do it." But her voice sounded more strained and painful than defensive. Brynjolf sighed.

"Come on, Isobel." He grunted and leaned down, wrapping her arm around his shoulder. They probably would've reached Riften's North Gate much sooner had Brynjolf simply carried her, but regardless Hans and Tabitha rushed to her as soon as they saw the limping couple.

"Tabitha, can you help take Isobel's other side." Brynjolf asked.

"No!" Isobel pleaded. "He's enough! I don't want any more!" Tabitha ignored her protest, claiming Isobel healed her in her time of need and helping carrying her to the Flagon was the least she could do.

"I'm taking you all the way to the Flagon, don't you worry." Tabitha said to a pale Isobel, obviously trying to hide her own discomfort that still resided in her burned arm. The adrenaline in Isobel was starting to wear off and the pain had become stronger, the hot numbness was spreading to her whole leg, and her swollen feet couldn't even bend their toes. Through the tunnels and over the plank bridge the trio struggled, and as they opened the door to the Ragged Flagon Isobel's eyes started to water.

"Let me walk, please." She muttered softly, and Tabitha and Brynjolf let her go. Isobel couldn't make a more than a couple steps to the bar, but Dirge had alerted the others and they came out. Some with triumphant sneers and some with worried brows.

"Isobel, what's happened?" Thrynn rushed to her and put his large hands on her slouched shoulders, Delvin behind him.

"I failed." She quaked, her wet hair and armor was plastered to her, making her seem even smaller and more miserable. "I-I failed, I couldn't light the third hive..." The shame Isobel felt clenched her chest and throat.

"How about that, uh? Brynjolf's protégé and Gray Fox's sister... limping into the Guild with her tail between her legs-" Vex mused, Tonilia beside her.

"Can it Vex." Brynjolf spat. "She has an arrow in her leg."

"She what?" Thrynn said, looking down at her thigh where the arrow stuck out of her armour.

"Come lass, we'll sit you down and have Tonilia take a look at it-" Brynjolf took his position to help her walk but Isobel raised a hand to stop him.

"I can do it myself." Isobel spoke for herself and Tonilia, who did not look thrilled at the idea of being nurse. "Just give me a tub or bucket and some bandages, I can manage."

"_You have an arrow in your leg, lass_." Brynjolf argued.

"And as I said, _I can manage_. I'm sure many of the people in this room have suffered similar injuries. If you must, you can watch, but I need to fix my own mistakes." Isobel said sternly into Brynjolf's green eyes which hardened.

"Thanks, Tabitha." Delvin suddenly spoke. "I'll be sure to reward you with something special within the week."

"Give me a bottle of wine and we'll call it even." Tabitha chuckled sadly, taking off her helmet, revealing her pretty face to a taken aback Delvin.

"Oh yes, indeed." He muttered, slightly taken aback at the guard's beauty.

"Yes, thank you, Tabitha. Thrynn, help me get her to the bath." Brynjolf said, and he and Thrynn half carried Isobel into the small closet inside the latrine. Isobel was beyond grateful that she didn't have to limp through the cistern and keep whatever shred of pride she had left.

"It's not warm, but it's clean." Vekel said as he entered, pouring a small pot full of water into the tin tub.

"That's good, we don't want warm water, and I just need it for rinsing. Thank you, Vekel." Isobel said as Brynjolf quickly left for some bandages. Proud that he could be of some assistance, Vekel nodded and left.

"You're going to be fine, Issy." Thrynn said softer than Isobel ever heard him as he bent down to take off her shoes.

* * *

"Thrynn, you can go back to bed if you like. I'd like a discussion with Isobel." Brynjolf said as he brought in bandages and a chair and placed it beside the bath, shaking his wet hair out of his face. "I just want to get the details of what all happened."

"Fine." Thrynn grumbled, quickly taking off Isobel's second boot. "You go easy on her, boss. I'm sure she did her best." Thrynn stared as he closed the door behind him, leaving the two alone.

Isobel took off her gloves and started to unbuckle her straps to take off her armour. When she slid off her top Brynjolf's gaze darted away. Isobel noticed.

"You wanted to watch remember? Think I was going to clean this wound with my pants on?" And with that she gingerly slipped one leg out of her trousers, struggling to pull out the punctured one. "Besides," She said with a grunt. "I imagine you've seen women in their underwear before."

She was right, Brynjolf had seen his fair share of women, and he forced himself to look. Her body was lean but very muscled, and was still dripping with sweat and lake water that shimmered in the torch light. He found himself lingering too long on her collarbones that heaved with her breathing before snapping back to reality.

"Here." He said, gently helping maneuver the arrow shaft into her pant leg so she could pull it off. Isobel peeled the rest of her trousers down her bloody leg and stepped into the tub.

"Bryn, when I pull this out I'll need you to put pressure on it with those bandages." She said, picking up one of her belts and placing in it her mouth to bite. Brynjolf readied himself, feeling awful watching Isobel in so much pain, but was impressed with how professional she was at taking care of herself.

She clenched her teeth, put one finger beside her wound to press and tried to pull the arrow out, but it was wedged in deep and he could hear her muffled whimpers. Brynjolf shifted uneasily. _'How could I have let her gone? I could've at least sent someone with her._' He cursed himself just as Isobel clenched the shaft tightly with white knuckles and yanked with her entire frame. Her wail was loud even behind the belt as she threw the wet arrow angrily across the room, splattering Brynjolf with a few drops of her blood. He was too busy pressing the bandages to her puncture wounds to care.

"Shit." He muttered, watching the dark blood soak through within seconds and run down her legs. "What are we going to do, lass? You didn't ask for a healing potion-"

"Potions would be no use, the blood would wash it out before it could do anything." She spat out her belt "Just press on the back hole, as I heal the front." He did what she instructed him, watching the blood pour out of the uncovered wound like a faucet before Isobel brashly inserted her full index finger inside of it with a painful gasp.

Brynjolf was confused with what she was actually doing, staring somewhat agape as her hands seemed to emit a dim glow, like her hands held candlelight inside of them.

"I had almost forgotten you were a healer." He said softly as she slowly pulled her bright finger out of her leg.

"Yes, and I'm surprised none of you here are. Let me into to the second one." Brynjolf pulling away from her leg watched her reinsert her finger and repeat the process. The two punctures were closed off, her leg was still in severe pain and a gory mess but the flood of blood had been dammed. Isobel eased herself down to sit on the edge on the tub and started to rinse her still tender leg.

"We have basic medical skills, we know how to clean and dress wounds, but none of us are mages." Brynjolf said, sitting back in his chair.

"I wouldn't call myself a mage, I'd call myself a thief. But considering I just botched a simple job I'm not sure I even deserve that title." Isobel pouted, occasionally wincing as she washed her thigh. "The contents of the safe are in the leather satchel in my front jacket pocket." She gestured to her soaking, muddy armour on the floor. "It looked promising before I jumped into the lake, I'll be surprised if it's legible now." Brynjolf retrieved the damp paper from her pocket and opened it.

"A sealed letter? That was it? Hey, it's not that bad. It's a little blurry but I could make it out fine." And he read the letter out loud:

_"Aringoth,_

_ This document acknowledges the sale of Goldenglow Estate and all property, assets and materials contained within. Payment of the property has been made in full by Gajul-Lei as an agent on behalf of the buyer. All dealing with the Thieves Guild in Riften is to cease immediately. To deter any possible retribution for this act, you are to take immediate steps to protect our assets in any way you see fit. I think you'll find that the Thieves Guild is oft more bark than bite and will likely avoid Goldenglow Estate rather than thin their already dwindling numbers._

_Good luck and may this be the start of a long and lucrative partnership."_

"Aringoth sold Goldenglow?! What's that idiot thinking?!"

"This isn't good..." Isobel muttered.

"He has no idea the extent of Maven's fury when she's been cut out of a deal... but I'm sure he will. Hang on, there's this symbol at the bottom of the page." Brynjolf stared at this strange marking, a simple dagger with a black moon behind it. " Do you-" But he was cut off as he felt a rough stroke against his cheek and started violently. Looking up he saw Isobel's pixie-like features frowning at him, a swollen bee sting above her raised eyebrow.

"You have some blood on you." She said quietly, rubbing her wrinkled thumb over one particular spot on his left cheek. Brynjolf shifted uncomfortably, she was nearly naked and leaning towards him, giving him a fair view of her petite cleavage which he strained to look away from. And there was that small scent of cream that wafted off her skin, so light and evanescent he had to wonder if it was his imagination or not.

Isobel suddenly froze, and they made eye contact only for a millisecond at which she sharply retreated and crouched in the tub, yelping and clutching her leg at the brash movement. She continued to look heart-broken though. "I think I gave another man that scar tonight...one of the mercenaries...I sliced open his cheek..."

"It's okay, lass." Brynjolf swallowed, trying to loosen the black leather collar from around his neck. "It happened a lot time ago. A simple knife injury I got when I was still a whelp."

"How long have you been in the Guild?" Isobel asked, splashing in the water and avoiding his gaze.

"Almost 26 years." Brynjolf answered.

"Good _gods_, you're_ ancient_!" Isobel blurted, cupping her hands over her mouth. Brynjolf stared at her a few moments unamused, only to start laughing at her frightened face. Sensing she was off the hook she continued her abuse. "Seriously, you were with the Guild 5 years before I was even _born_!"

"Shut it, lass. I may be old, but you're still a child."

"I am not a child!" Isobel clutched her chest in mock offense. "I am a strong woman, elegant and poise! With good posture and humble manners!"

* * *

**A/N: Quick shout out to Kerobani. This bamf has been following this story for a long ass time and definitely deserves some props. If you like reading about realistic male protagonists instead the billions of female leads I highly recommend _I, Companion _and _I, Dragonborn. _**

**Congratulations if you read to the end of this long chapter. Gold star and A+++ for you.**


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